The debut LP from this South London band is absurd, playful, and more than a little unsettling, sounding at times like a less romantic Libertines.
June 24, 2016—the day Britain voted to leave the European Union—was a dreadful one. And yet something hopeful happened that day: Four teens who called themselves Goat Girl inked a deal with Rough Trade. Two years later, following a round of premature hype as one of the UK’s most promising bands, they’ve released their debut LP. Goat Girl, whose members are now in their early 20s, are navigating post-adolescence in a time of queasy division between the young and old. Brexit’s impact remains a cataclysmically uncertain mess; London, which once boasted a thriving indie subculture, has lost much of its creative edge to greed and gentrification. In this crazy, aimless time, they’ve built something distinctly new and surreal. Pitchfork
Hailing from South London with a moniker inspired by one of Bill Hicks’ most controversial (some might say grotesque) characters, Goat Girl don’t beat about the bush when it comes to making their intentions clear. Their self-titled debut might reference their native city in many ways, but this really is no Ray Davies or Damon Albarn affected homage. Goat Girl documents what it’s like to be a young woman living in a downtrodden, debt ridden, post-Brexit capital where divisions by class, race and gender persist all too evidently.
Having formed three years ago after a chance meeting at Brixton’s legendary Windmill venue, the four-piece have since emerged as one of the brightest hopes in the UK’s supposedly dying guitar scene. Alongside the likes of Sorry, Good Bad Happy Sad and Shame, they’re carrying a pos- Fat Whites torch for a musical underground reared on bitterness and fed up of the rigours imposed by another Tory government. So in retaliation, the four Goat Girls – Lottie (vocals & guitar), Ellie (guitar), Naima (bass) and Rosy (drums) – have spent their formative years constructing a bunch of songs borne out of frustration with their lot, yet not exclusive to their own backyard either. Songs many of us can relate to, and in turn created one of the most potent debuts this year. 8/10 Drowned In Sound
Read any piece online about South Londoners Goat Girl and it’s almost certain to be followed by a comments section full of people unable to let go of their past. Angrily harking back to the days when “punk was real” and “lyrics meant something”. Basically the worst kind of music listener.
There may be many reasons for this frankly unwarranted vitriol, blatant misogyny among them. But, judging by Goat Girl’s self titled debut album, a key reason could be that Goat Girl simply don’t give a shit about them. The Line Of Best Fit
If the usual remit of a debut album is to provide a kind of potted Greatest Hits So Far – a familiar, hit-packed wallop of singles with which to build upon – then ‘Goat Girl’ is vital proof that new bands can, and should, dream far bigger.
Since their earliest steps (still, let’s not forget, barely 18 months ago), the South London quartet have persistently offered up a more experimental and strange take on the standard two guitars, bass and drums formula. With most tracks clocking in around the two minute mark, some paying no mind to such trivialities as a chorus, their angry, politically-charged musings are short, sharp jabs with no musical fat on them.
On their self-titled LP, they take this confidence and spread it over a warped 19-track journey that connects rattling, Proper Hits (‘Cracker Drool’, ‘The Man’), wonky shanties (‘The Man with No Heart or Brain’) and bleak dystopia (‘Throw Me A Bone’) with woozy spoken word and instrumental interludes that frame and shape the whole thing into an album in the truest sense – one that negates the modern playlisting culture and demands you listen from start to finish. 5***** DIY Mag