Fool's Gold Leave No Trace

Afro-pop steeped in Jewish sensibilities - that’s probably about the easiest way to summarise the highly distinctive aesthetic of the LA based Fool’s Gold – but, in all frankness, we may indulge ourselves with the thought that such a label may represent their death knells when presented amidst the modern swirlings of indie-pop. One might suggest that the likes Vampire Weekend have cultivated a luscious and fertile breeding ground in the popular consciousness for just such a band to flourish; however, the overriding feeling is that they inadvertently salted that earth and pissed in the water supply.

My own pre-conceived pities aside, Fool’s Gold are certainly not seeking out the limelight; instead, they’ve worked to produce two quality records since their birth four years ago, consisting of songs blessed with an engrossing richness and depth. Much of this was borne out of the use of Hebrew, with singles Surprise Hotel and Nadine benefiting from the almost instrumental quality of the product. Perhaps its use might sound something of a gimmick but, in its own way, it worked brilliantly in handing the work a meandering, yearning quality divulged solely in tone and sound. Its very senselessness to the non-Hebrew speaking majority provided its greatest asset.

So it is with some dissatisfaction that I must lay bare the most striking discrepancy between the eponymous debut and the newly released follow-up, Leave No Trace. Dispensing with the Hebrew, it is an English language affair and, somewhat constrained by that revelation, the first impression of the record is that that makes it a whole lot more dull. It opens with two tracks clearly identified and groomed for single success: The Dive and Wild Window are complete with the jangly guitars and exotic nuances of their predecessors. Novelty, though, is from time to time better a cup left un-supped.

Track 3, Street Clothes, then provides a slightly changed template, but one that has shifted alarmingly towards an Indie landfill aesthetic; despite that menacing suggestion, it’s still a solid track and recovers by diverging and experimenting enough from the template to keep us interested. Leave No Trace is underlined by a cooler riff, but is otherwise weighed down by a similar problem. Now it dawns on the listener - none of this is poor music; it just seems too lacking in the very departments that made its forerunner, well... simply better. This record then sees the band shift towards the Vampire Weekend style mainstream of their art and, as suggested, that’s probably not a place that will do them any favours, especially whilst they surrender some of the more profitable idiosyncrasies.

Having stripped down the most distinctive of their qualities, it leaves songs that are enjoyable, but remain that way for the duration of the record and no longer, too easily slipping into musical anonymity. The sense that there’s a good, if not great record in here somewhere is rife, demonstrated by the burning Narrow Sun and the flaunted cool of Tel Aviv. However, not once does this record manage to clamber out of its self-imposed constraints of mediocrity; and for a band genuinely capable of blissful set piece tracks, that makes it mostly a somewhat distressing token.