Girls Father, Son, Holy Ghost

 This album, to quote Holden Caulfield, 'nearly killed me'. I haven't heard a Rock album (with a capital R) this good in years, and I'm not one for overstatement. It's moving and epic, never pretentious. A sprawling yet concise trip through the spectrum of human emotion.
               Anyway, enough fawning, for now at least. Girls are a San Fransisco based duo who specialise in soul infused classic sounding rock. Lead singer Christopher Owens was raised in the evangelical insular cult-sect- hippy- commune- thing, The Children of God. And as such he had no exposure to popular culture until 'escaping' in his twenties. This explains, perhaps, the spectrum of influences present in their sound. Elvis Costello, eighties hard rock, elements of grunge (especially in Owen's sometimes slurred vocal delivery), The Beach Boys, Beatles, singer songwriters of the Elliot Smith hue, soul and gospel, a bit of Van Morrison even (most marked in the jaw flooringly awesome, 'Vomit'), and also some contemporary soundalikes such as Deerhunter at their least experimental, as on Halcyon Digest -- all these spring to mind. Girls sound like all of the above but yet utterly themselves. If this sounds too much like a pathological dissection of an essentially simple sound, it's only because I'm so intrigued at how timeless they sound. It's as if on leaving the commune Owens gobbled up as much music as possible, ingested it and diffused it into his own magical compositions.

         To me, Father, Son, Holy Ghost could have been recorded at any time in the last four decades. It uses almost exclusively 'organic' instruments but sounds anything but sparse, such is the richness of the songwriting and the candour of the material on offer here. A failed painter, Owens has found his metier in writing. He's said that a three minute song should be written in as many minutes. Indeed, were it not for the accomplishment of the melodies here I'd be inclined to believe that statement. The songs on the album are little more than heartfelt pangs of emotion made into words. It wouldn't be hard to imagine many of the songs (especially the mopey ones), being written en route home from a booze sodden evening.
               To say Owens wears his heart on his sleeve is not only to use a tired cliche but also massively understating the issue. On'Vomit', a tune they inexplicably hung on to for over two years, the catharsis is almost unbearable. The first four minute are little more than clean strumming and Owens lamenting being "alone, looking for love", mantra like over and over. This hangs like sullen fog over a murky river, before it metamorphoses into a gospel infused freak out, dissipating all the mist. An utterly implausible transformation that on paper sounds ridiculous- Guys, on the four minute mark we'll get the big black lady singers out and a fuck off organ and come over all Queen on your asses. And, yeah, the chick's mine. - It's got farce written all over it, yet it bloody soars.
       The object of Owens' desire is implored to "come into my heart, my love," as Brian May esque noodling shines like fireworks above, and what sounds like Aretha Franklin is drafted in for some vocal acrobatics, just to beef things up a bit. It's amazing that a band who sound like so many others avoid all self consciousness, and posturing. Whatever Owens throws his hand at is utterly convincing and compelling. Whether it's old school R&B, as on 'Love Like A River' or the jangly sunshine pop of 'Honey Bunny'; whatever stylistic medium they choose to ape- it works. When Owens speaks of unrequited love, as on the aforementioned 'Vomit, it's as if he's articulating something never before expressed, not a hoary old cliche. It's by being so candid, by embracing every musical whim, that Girls avoid descending into ludicrousness. If they want to write an elegiac ode to missing their mum (as they do on 'My Ma'), they will. And do so without losing face, simply because of their lack of artifice.

             The shoegazey 'Alex' is another moment of transcendence, it's a lovesong addressed to the Alex of its title. "If someone somewhere dies, well who cares", Owens sings, simultaneously expressing a sense of our own insignificance whilst also highlighting the opposite: i.e no- one cares if we die so let's make this relationship the world. Fuck everyone else, we have us. Each vocal line is echoed by the lead guitar as if emphasizing the point, the union of the two lovers. The lyrics sound saccharine sweet on paper; "Alex has a smile, I could spend a while with that smile", being an example. Yet with the backdrop of fuzzed guitars and the oddly detached sounding vocals, they strike a perfect balance between sweet and savoury. It's a song I have listened to over twenty times and still find it rewarding.
          The sequencing of this song, leading into the punky 'Die'--"were all gonna die", is representative of how the album resembles a train of thought or the caprice of human emotion. One moment there is salvation the next nihilism.
         As their Matador label page says of the duo, "they are sincere rock and roll soul mates in an age of irony", and their ability to translate both the dark and light of human experience into such relatable music is some feat. And all the more impressive for its shunning of irony and dramatic distance.
                "Nothing's going to get any better if your drowning in fear", Owens sings, zen like, on 'Forgiveness', the emotional summit of the album. Indeed, and it's this very fearlessness that makes the album such a refreshing, and rewarding experience. Girls are a mighty, life enhancing band.