With guitars sounding like medium-strength automatic teller frequenters ‘Hard-fi’, but with none of the charm and character of their inaugural Stars Of CCTV, Glass Of Gold is a poppier amalgamation of a few bands from that particular time when working class British guitar bands were on telly.
Glass of Gold has intended overtones of club night debauchery, seemingly intended to breathe new life into a jaded style. The overall approach is tried and tested, but feels absolutely tired. The super catchy synth line is a redeeming factor here, but it just can’t save it. The excitement is unconvincing. Wholly unbelievable.
Production is super polished, Including such studio favourites as lazy side-to-side delay panning which is jarring and cheesy. The song drops out the high frequencies for a brief period of time, as a build up, one of those dance music clichés – inserted into an indie pop environment – as if it’s being listened to from behind a fire exit door at a club. I hope to god that I’m out here because I’ve been kicked out for wearing the wrong kind of t-shirt, or perhaps even for eating all the cocktail menus. If only it were even that interesting.
Songwriting feels a little box-ticky, a cookie-cutter recipe for a successful indie track, it’s patronising. A band pretending to be a band. The lyric “A place where smiles are bought and sold” is quite tasty, but unfortunately this track sounds a little bit like royalty free music, and perhaps someone will nod in appreciation to this lyric when they hear it over the speakers in Card Factory or on a couch to 5k backing track the next time they eat too many pizzas in a row.
There are hints of potential for a more lyrically rich and creative approach, but creative risks might take the big support slots down with them (Pigeon Detectives, We Are Scientists, White Lies) I received the explicit version of this track into my inbox, but there is a radio edit. Developing a super-commercial sound, committing to a radio release, and then proceeding to distract from the flow of a song by having to then censor it for no reason seems absolutely fruitless. There’s no function of strong language here, there’s no honest, believable, vocally guttural, or lyrical strife. Glass of Gold fails to deliver the sense that Autopilot really, actually mean it.