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There was a time when flashes of light lit sweating bodies on sticky dance floors of dirty and ill-attended clubs. Cigarettes' smoke and exotic named drinks – as Donkey Kick – decorated tiny stages with crooked floors. Broken plug cables connected to amplifiers that seemed to have five hives inside them boosted guitars with strings that cut fingers and microphones that insisted on electrocuting less cautioned lips. A nice legs girl, with a ribbon on her curly hair, in a trim skirt and socks to her knees grabbed the bulk in the pants of a delinquent with a thick mustache who was wearing a tight Alice Cooper t-shirt with a faded logo. A bottle hit the head of an inobservant who paid attention to the distorted solo of a band worried with their van parked in a forbidden place at some corner. Some call that perversion. Goatlove call it last Thursday.
This is Goatlove. A band with no secrets in search of pure hedonism. While Alexander Watt breaks his sticks at old tom-tom skins, Frank Gasparotto scratches his beard and hit his bass as if it was a gun moll. At the front, Marco Nunes delivers catchy riffs with lots of slides and Fábio Gusmão releases bends while hallucinating stepping in his wah-wah pedal. Roger Lombardi follows everything declaring senseless lyrics with his crooner voice, except when he decides to desperately shout to “set the mood”, according to himself. We just don’t know what mood.
Songs like "Kill Somebody", "Beautiful Bomb", "Automatic Fire" and "Ultramarine Dog" are typical compositions with a blend of guitar riffs, noisy rhythm section and even noisier singer. They are perfect to hear on a 1969 Mustang. Others like "Desperate Passion", "I Don’t Believe" and "Here She Comes" were made for who likes to dance, but still ashamed. There are even spiritual, evolved and grandiose songs like "Devil Sun" that as a matter of fact, are useless. But you’ll like them anyway.
If one day rock was dangerous and criminal, Goatlove can be seen as the gang’s escapade driver that at the eleventh hour leaves everybody in the lurch and is sworn to death by his friends that ended up arrested on their way out to the bank for not having a car to escape. Yes, they are this naughty.
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