The Goa Express – ‘The Goa Express’ album review: promise and disappointment in equal measure
In The Goa Express‘ self-titled debut album, the promise shines through with uncompromising intent, occasionally bright enough to ignite intrigue. However, rather than plunging into the profound possibilities of reviving the 2000s indie that clearly inspired it, there’s a lingering sense throughout the record that it persists as a wistful reflection of precisely what it is: echoes of a bygone era.
The re-emergence of indie-rock music around two decades back marked the return of guitar music, adorned with newfound intricacies and unmatched energy. Emerging from the remnants of the punk era, bands like The Strokes, The Libertines, and Arcade Fire injected a bold assurance into the revitalised indie scene, rehashing the enchantment thought to have faded away.
Even now, numerous aspiring artists endeavour to replicate the distinct allure crafted by these pioneers — some adeptly stirring intrigue while others falter. The Goa Express, fervent in their aspiration to captivate, hover so ambivalently within this evaluation that it scarcely strikes a chord, barring perhaps one or two promising tracks.
Overflowing with youthful vigour, the album presents its vibrant intent through ‘Honey’. Echoing Blossoms’ buoyant indie-rock style, the track resembles the lively sound of a supporting band, similar to arriving late at a festival, having just unintentionally discovered something that threatens to grab your attention.
Creating music is a pleasurable pursuit, and the album undoubtedly provides an enjoyable initial listen. However, there isn’t much in its mid-section that thrives; nothing that becomes especially memorable enough to urge a return. ‘It’s Never Been Better’ might have shone brighter if it didn’t mumble its strained vocal efforts, while ‘Portrait’ seems to arrive too late in the album to earn the valuable attention that it probably deserves.
There are nice elements to many of these songs, and not all of the record falls flat. However, perhaps my growing age has solidified my preferences for indie music, and I worry this newfangled rehash will fade from memory as swiftly as I press play. ‘Small Talk’ offers a breezy but bold listen, reminiscent of the punchiness that exploring The Libertines once delivered. Yet, unless you’re primed for an imminent early-stage indie surge in your life, this mightn’t invigorate any response beyond nostalgia.
‘Talking About Stuff’ appears to be a moment of respite within their otherwise lively tracklist. It adopts a slower, more contemplative tone compared to their previously vibrant rock ambience, almost welcoming yet carrying a sense of hollowness. The standout track, ‘Prove It’, seals the album on a confident yet straightforward note. It commences in an unembellished manner, only to transform with the introduction of relentless guitars as James Douglas Clarke’s unfiltered vocals navigate between hope and setbacks.
Lyrically and musically, the album reflects nostalgia, often finding Clarke reminiscing about days gone by. Contemplating the necessity of closure, the album unfolds amid soft, unassuming guitars before ascending into a synth-soaked reverie, serving as the pinnacle of contemporary indie-rock. While it grasps at unexpected moments, with the band showing great promise of strong, dynamic follow-ups, much of this album’s sounds drift away, like aspirations to pursue the distant horizon.
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