Australian punk four-piece are sharing a new video for single, ‘Rose Blind’, which is the second track to be unveiled from their upcoming album Drum, set for release Aug 18th via Felte.
Director Flagz from Defero Productions offered some insight behind the meaning of the video saying: “For ‘Rose Blind’ I wanted to show the similarities between the strong and the soft sides of human relationships, they may look different but in the end we all bleed.”
Gold Class vocalist Adam Curley added “I was trawling through a car wreckers and made a kind of sculpture with a few parts I found. The idea was to examine skin and human figures against these brutal and soft materials – and the dark and light of things – in an uncomfortable way.”
RTIST STATEMENT (written by Adam Curley, singer/lyricist for Gold Class)
The week we started to write Drum, my relationship ended and I was left alone in a draughty old house, which belonged to a friend of a friend. In the house, I sat around with my notebook, the quiet hours cut with news from friends and the TV: the suicides of musicians and writers I’d known and queer kids I hadn’t; the systematic abuse of vulnerable people, the constant mockery of anyone on the outs.
I knew what the purpose of the album would be when I wrote the repeated line in ‘Get Yours’: “There’s none left here and all I need.” I wanted it to be a record of defiance, a resistance to the idea of scrambling for a place at a table that wasn’t set for you. A sort of a love letter to anyone who not only can’t meet the standard but doesn’t want to. I wanted it to be a record of rage and ecstasy and endless nights and sex and dumb fun and ventures in solidarity. Not just an album of urgency and longing, but one of abandon and a reclaiming of a self beyond boundaries.
But I couldn’t avoid what was immediately happening in my life, either, that the end of my relationship had uncovered a lot of the feelings of isolation I experienced growing up. And so it turned out that the album is also personal, and I think is in conversation with queer histories of silence and evasion and transgression, which I was revisiting through the writing of James Baldwin and Cocteau. Childhood imagery kept creeping into the lyrics. Maybe I was trying to come to some peace with the past and to stand up and find some agency in the present. I suppose it was the most defiant thing I could think to do: not to write as some act of catharsis but in an attempt simply to document and claim my existence; that I am here.