Snowgoose are rebels, man. They don’t give one single fuck. You think punk killed soft rock? Snowgoose begs to differ. You think heavy metal ate the folk revival? Well, Snowgoose will have a bone to pick with that. Nirvana nullified whimsy? Nevermind all that. Snowgoose are going to take you to the hurtlocker with Spanky and the Gang and paddle your expectations raw, because you thought the lightest thing you could stand in 2020 was that one song where Michael Stipe spends three minutes whining about how not having a personal Jesus or something.
If you know anything about Snowgoose you’ve probably found the proceeding paragraph highly inappropriate and have stopped reading, to which I say GOOD! Beat it! I write everyday about hardcore, metal, and noise rock and it’s therefore exciting to me to find music outside of that world that I can relate to. I’m not looking to speak to the congregation. This is a mission of conversation. If I can get one gangrenous freak who liked my Necort review to click on the player at the end of this post, I will have done my duty, and can rest the dark sleep of ages with a (mostly) clear conscience. So without further rambling, who the hell are Snowgoose?
The Scottish pop group known as Snowgoose is comprised primarily of vocalist Anna Sheard and former Soup Dragons and BMX Bandits guitarist, Jim McCulloch. They’re usually joined by a swirling cavalcade of indie luminaries from past eras. On their most recent release, The Making of You they’ve got Raymond McGinley and Dave McGowan of Teenage Fanclub, and Chris Geddes of Belle & Sabastian, among others, hopping in the saddle to drive this leisurely caravan to the promised land. McCulloch was the sole driving force behind their debut Harmony Springs, but on their latest release, Sheard has stepped into a spotlight of her own, quill in hand, penning the majority of the tracks on The Making of You. Snowgoose has always drawn from the easy-vibe catching psychedelia of the ‘60s and the hard folk era that followed, but this release feels more consciously constrained to the more melodic side of these periods. It’s frankly the right move for the band, challenging them to write better hooks and hone in on the sonorous potential of each track.
These attempts to cultivate frictionless pop melodies do not leave the album devoid of tension though. Like much of its source material, the album opens with a surging, prodding folk-rhythm reminiscent of a dire take on a Fleetwood Mac song, with flourishes of French accordion ribboning through it for additional buttery flavor. There is also the maudlin, sea-shanty bilge and sway of the title track, whose bluesy, moors-cowgirl harmonies will haunt you for days. As you may expect, there are more uplifting numbers as well. “Who Will You Choose” sounds like France Gall doing a bossa nova-styled, psychedelic-soap-up drafted by Mick Fleetwood. “Goldenwing” is a clangy charmer that will catch you under the chin with its nails and run its figures along your jawline, tickling you while it draws a smile across your face like a fanciful portrait artist taunting their muse. And lastly, the closer “Gave Up Without A Sound” brings it on back home with some gospel brightened country-western a la Jenny Lewis, and in its more uplifting moments, Kacey Musgraves.
Soft and buoyant, poignant and cool. Snowgoose will make you feel a lot of things you didn’t realize you had in you, and access emotions that you’ll be glad weren’t left buried, as they exhume sounds from rock’s antiquity. You’re going to be glad you made time today for The Making of You.
