| Sounds Like | ROLLINGSTONE.com
“Have we mentioned that "Renaissance Kid" by the Golden Virgins is like, the greatest song ever? Cause it is . . .”
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NME
The acidic barrage of Renney’s caustic tongue waxes lyrical on sordid affairs of the human heart, while his band craft songs of exquisite pop nous, sounding like arch grumpster Leonard Cohen aligned with the Pixies pop sensibilities – the end result being the kind of ace debut offering that doesn’t come around too often.
We should thank our lucky stars for the existence of The Golden Virgins. Praise be, indeed
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VUE WEEKLY
Golden Virgins combine miserable ballads—songs like “Stay Sober,” about an alcoholic’s slide past the point of no return—with ballsy, sloppy rock anthems about spying on girls and wanting to get laid. And it’s oh so engaging, because when the Golden Virgins decide to rock, they grab you by the scruff of your neck like a decade-late English version of the Replacements. You can almost sense singer Lucas Renney trying to suppress a chuckle or two when he spouts lines like “You, I got my eye on you, I see the things you do, ’cause baby I’m a camera watching you. I see what makes you tick, and how you get your kicks, and only you can my shutter click, click, click, click” (from “I Am a Camera”) or when he begs for sex (“I want to die inside her dress”) on “The Thought of Her.” If it wasn’t for the prevalence of way-too-important bands like Coldplay and Radiohead on the British scene, the Golden Virgins could be written off as a dumb rock band. But this is a rallying cry against those who want to make rock vehicle for their own pomposity—and it makes Songs of Praise one of most significant efforts to come out of the U.K. in a while.
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www.subbacultcha.com
The Golden Virgins are truly a strange and beautiful delight, veering between dark intensity and wry humour, via a soundtrack of giddy indie pop fun. This band have turned the love song into an art form of their own, tingeing everything with a sinister yet poetic genius. If you’re looking for something truly different, and remain ever-optimistic that British bands can lead the way, then The Golden Virgins could be your new hope.
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Record Collector
Don’t be fooled by the title, these are not religious sermons, nor are they in praise of anything. Rather, love, the only theme, is castigated at every turn, shown all too clearly by the opening line, Well fuck you love and fair thee well. There are copious musical treasures here. Produced by Cliff Jones of Gay Dad infamy, Songs Of Praise moves effortlessly from the mournful, elegiac chamber music of ‘Shadows Of Your Love’ to the brilliantly catchy ‘Renaissance Kid’. Best of all is the Cars-esque ‘I Am A Camera’ which opens with a naïve dance beat before exploding into a driving guitar and keyboard riff that will make even the coolest indie kid split his second-hand suit jacket.
True such joie de vivre is slightly disingenuous, as The Golden Virgins have made an album steeped in caustic self-loathing, in which love can destroy the human spirit. However it never comes across as self-obsessed or self-consciously melancholic. The listener is left feeling strangely uplifted and that the biggest irony of all |
