I’m listening to My Golden Calf’s Perfume Brute in my bed. I’ve taken the bed cover off because yesterday I knocked over a big storm lamp and it landed on the ground and shattered everywhere and I’m still finding glass on the ground. For those of you who don’t know, a storm lamp is like a lava lamp but instead of big globs it has electricity on the inside. It’s like those little spheres in that the bolts of electricity move to points of conducive contact with the glass surface.
Inarguably, the loss of this lamp is a manifestation of misfortune. Despite this minor tragedy, misfortune is not the only form of luck of mine that manifests; while I can’t always win, I sometimes get my way. I’m getting my way right now, listening to the soon to be released My Golden Calf album, Perfume Brute.
The relaxed state I am ushered into by the raw voice of Dabney Dwelle perpetuates itself without contest. The lyricism present within these tracks has regressive tendencies, and as Dwelle’s fingerpicking permeates the track, I am constantly remembering sunset drives behind the wheel of a car I never had going to a party I’ve never attended. The heavy bass of Jonathan Skaggs runs in concordance with Tim O’Neill’s steady rhythmic drumming, and the two work together to complement Dwelle’s singing with warm melodies.
This soothing collection has an origin story that fits the narrative so well you’d swear it was scripted. Their press release, reading, “My Golden Calf locked themselves inside their newly-constructed Captain Douglas Studios and recorded the ten new tracks that would become Perfume Brute,” reveals determination and devotion. This determination and devotion has payed off, and I realize now that I’ve listened to the album for the third time today.