Gold-Bears: "Record Store"

A note to indie rockers: stay away from bears. First of all, in the words of Stephen Colbert, they are “godless, rampaging killing machines.” Second of all, having the word “bear” in your name is almost certain to prompt confusion with a host of similarly-named bands: Bear Hands, Bear in Heaven, Minus the Bear, Panda Bear, and a number of bands called “Bear” that Allmusic insists are real. This is a lesson that Atlanta-based Gold-Bears should have learned long before recording a debut album for Slumberland, but by now I suppose they’re resigned to their fate. On the bright side, Gold-Bears don’t actually resemble any of the other “bear” bands in sound: their cheerful ’80s twee pop has more in common with uniquely-named predecessors like Talulah Gosh and labelmates like the Pains of Being Pure at Heart. And like those bands, Gold-Bears’ primary mode is sweet, sunny, and infectious.

“Record Store” is the kind of song we’ve heard many times before, especially recently. And yet somehow Gold-Bears manage to make it appealing and fresh in a way that Pains of Being Pure at Heart seem to be lacking these days. Basically, “Record Store” doesn’t sit around and sulk. A relentless kick-drum and crisp guitars buoy what could have been background music, especially in the irresistible staccato chorus, which vocalist Jeremy Underwood dedicates to someone who “cried when the TV wasn’t on” and “saved my life.” There’s very little to this tune—it sounds as though the same verse is repeated numerous times—but Gold-Bears don’t really seem interested in storytelling. “Record Store” is instead a quick, sparkly bit of pop that can get anyone up and moving, propelled by its pure energy and lost in the moment.