Golden Teacher - No Luscious Life

A Closer Listen

Sunday is traditionally the day of rest. In the past a time of worship, contemplation and communion it’s now more frequently a day where we recover from the, ahem, exertions of a Saturday night by going out for a nice roast and then slumping in front of the football before remembering about that project that definitely had to be completed for the presentation first thing Monday morning.

However, if you were in Glasgow between 1997 and 2010 and just wanted to keep on going there was the option of Optimo, a Sunday night club run by the duo of JD Twitch and Jonnie Wilkes. Like any DJ, they were all about the dancing but they embraced an eclectic range of music that was far broader than their peers but selected as long as it fitted in the set. So all manner of obscure artists old and new, if they had half an eye on the dancefloor, ended up with their music being spun at Optimo; an inventive and open-minded approach that fed into their label.

One of Optimo’s signings was a Glaswegian sextet who were so influenced by what they heard in the club they could almost have been the in-house band, if Optimo had kept going. It’s all there in Golden Teacher’s music: woozy disco, off-kilter funk, a lot of percussion and dubby divergences. A bit like !!!’s albums, there’s a whole mess of styles here cajoled into a relatively coherent seven track statement. Perhaps fittingly, they are now working under their own steam, outside the Optimo umbrella (confusingly, the label has recently released work by The Golden Filter who aren’t related in any way).

Given that previously Golden Teacher have stuck to extended play releases it becomes apparent that they have struggled to shake off the EP format with their first long-player. Indeed, it might have made more sense if they had taken the tunes here and distributed them across a pair of EPs, one of clipped funk and the other of dub excursions. As it is, No Luscious Life is an album of two halves that works best on vinyl. With propulsive punk-funk tracks like “Sauchiehall Withdrawal” and “Spiritron” – heavy on the percussion and declamatory vocals – the first side is all about the energy and the groove.

Flipping it over, the second half draws on a much looser sound with a proper dub version of “Shatter” which originally appeared on the Sauchiehall Enthrall EP; by stripping out the original elements and slowing the tempo it’s now a less frantic and more spacious tune. This is an approach that Golden Teacher carry on to the title track, which even breaks out the woodwind for a wistful conclusion.

It seems like No Luscious Life is a case of right band, right time, wrong format – the seven individually fine songs on their seventh release maybe not flowing as well as could be hoped. In fact the band don’t seem too worried about how it is listened to, describing the album as “simply more music from Golden Teacher”. That’s maybe under-selling it too far in the other direction but as so many records are already consumed in their disparate parts creating an traditional LP record is perhaps no longer the ultimate goal. Anyway, at least half the tracks here will find their way onto mixes, playlists and DJ sets so let’s not be too sad that together it just isn’t quite the statement we’d hoped for – this is after simply more (great) music from Golden Teacher. (Jeremy Bye)

Available here

The Quietus

Glasgow collective Golden Teacher take the harder edges and contorted beats of house and transfuse disparate elements into its bloodstream – tropicalia percussion, spiked disco, anxious dub, spaced and frayed electronica. The six-piece continue to push the disco envelope on No Luscious Life. The songs are actually seven suites (on what is their seventh release) of kaleidoscopic, expansionist flailing and freedo(o)m, the only throughline being that they remain inherently odd and pleasurable.

The perfect opener, ‘Sauciehall Withdrawal’ marries an insouciant funk beat with off-kilter disco sheen and a mantra that ensures that regardless of the inarticulacies that we face in this warped year/decade/century, we won’t step down. It is overtly familiar and warm yet almost militant in its insistence that the political lies not far from the personal, that switching off invariably means remaining switched on, that to be free you have to know that you are part of the machine.

It’s chased up by ‘Diop’, a homage to Senegalese poet Aby Ngana Diop, and a discombobulated percussive piece that is cartoonish and sinister, mixing teeth-gritting anxiety with an inexorable rhythm. The ebb and flow of disparity continues – the sleazy disco melt of ‘Spiritron’ is hip-thrusting love on the interstellar plane, tethered to a syncopated beat, seemingly in control, before everything starts clattering and cascading. ‘The Kazimier’ is a woozy Wurlitzer of a track that again feels ominous even as the sinuous dub beats keep the body moving to the end of time. This is down to Cassie Ojay’s indecipherable, slurred cadences.

‘Shatter (Version)’ takes us into a dystopian post-punk dub drawl, a trawl through the distorted and damaged backwaters of distant memory that is creepy as fuck even as it invigorates. ‘What Fresh Hell Is This?’ as a title sounds like it’ll take us another level deeper, but instead leads us into a cerebral hall of mirrors infused with LSD and a lack of oxygen, all twangs, stretched notes, whining squelches and echoed bleeps.

‘No Luscious Life’ sees us through to the exit ramp, and is the only track that seems to legitimately connect any of the songs – because it has eaten all of the songs up into a percolating, heaving behemoth of rhythm and light, a phantasmagorical fever dance.

No Luscious Life has a manic punk belief that nothing should stick, that no summit be reached, that no dawn lights the horizon. The party continues in whatever way, shape or form is possible; let the mood, fatigue, drugs or endorphins lead you where they may. To finish on an anecdote – I have returned to ‘Sauciehall Withdrawal’ time and again in the early hours of the morning, not because I’m still on the zoom up or the glide down, but because it is perfect for a grumbling five-month-old. Without fail, when I play this track, she goes from frustration and anxiety to unabashed gummy glee and giggling. When you get the seal of approval from an infant capable of intuiting only a handful of broad emotions, you’re doing something right.

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Drowned In Sound 80

So Golden Teacher, in many ways, typifies that creative spirit that Glasgow proudly exudes on a daily basis. Their members are made up of Weegies from various bands and collectives such as Ultimate Thrush and Winning Sperm Party respectively, they record in the increasingly legendary Green Door Studio in trendy Finnieston - a studio set up by the elder statesmen (and women) of Glasgow electro/house to give back to younger artists - and are on Optimo's label. Oh, and they are named after a variety of magic mushroom. This is just one of many examples of the tight-knit dual-communities between art and music in Scotland's largest city. However, Golden Teacher are notable because they have transcended simple scenes or genre classifications, to become one of the city's perennial cult bands largely thanks to their explosive, propulsive, hypnotising live shows and [music videos that double up as art installations] (https://galleryofmodernart.wordpress.com/2015/07/29/tomorrow-is-aways-too-long-phil-collins-until-sunday-16-august/).

Since 2013, over the course of four EPs and various singles, the dance-punks have developed quite the following, gaining them a tour with legendary post-punk band ESG in 2015. So, it is with much excitement to find No Luscious Life the band's first proper long player as it is a suitable length to capture the band's hypnotic, enthralling live performances. The sextet have always been frustratingly difficult to pin down genre-wise, but that is exactly part of their charm. Due to their collaborative nature and diverse backgrounds, they seamlessly shift from funk-punk, disco, house and afro-beat without so much as breaking a sweat. They were once anecdotally described to this writer as 'all of Primal Scream's eras mashed into one' and while the band may, or may not, take issue with this, there is certainly something within that description.

True to form then, No Luscious Life successfully translates Golden Teacher's eclectic sound into a cohesive, expansive piece and it is thrilling to experience. The band's frontline is led by dual vocalists Cassie Ojay and Charlie Levanac, who take turns in throwing their quite contrasting vocal styles into the pot, sometimes spontaneously, seemingly, then behind them are the 'electronic' duo Richard McMaster and Sam Bellacosa who also perform as Silk Cut, and then the Pitt brothers, Laurie and Ollie of the aforementioned Ultimate Thrush, who bring the punkier, live elements to the band such as drums and guitar. Between the six of them, or the three duos, if you will, Golden Teacher produce an energy and intensity one is unlikely to find elsewhere, while equally creating a euphoric and psychedelic experience for listeners.

Opener 'Sauchiehall Withdrawal' immediately places the listener in Glasgow's most famous nightlife street, before setting them off on a mystical intergalactic journey from there. 'Diop' shows the band's debts to African music, name-checking the famous Senegalese poet, all percussion and bongos, before immediately submerging into an instant house classic in 'Spiritron'. And so the record goes on, never allowing the listener to second guess what trick the band may pull out of their sleeve next, but ensuring it is a magical experience all the same. 'Shatter (Version)' is the album's dark beating heart, while 'What Fresh Hell is This?' is the trippiest moment of all, manipulating a funky drum beat and bass line into something almost Aphex equalling amounts of mind-bending. Meanwhile, the finale and title-track seemingly sum all these varied influences and experiences into one all-encompassing track, placing one into the cold light of day at the other end of the long night.

No Luscious Life exceedingly delivers on all the promise Golden Teacher have shown so far in their still relatively short careers and is perhaps the moment that breaks them through into a wider audience. There is no denying that the band are one of the UK's most exciting prospects around right now, and with this late in the game-winner, their debut full-length could well see them live out that potential. Here's hoping.

Pitchfork 69

The Glasgow sextet brings a healthy dose of dub to its spiky punk-acid-disco fusion, to party-starting (and occasionally political) effect.