If you haven’t heard of Bill Hicks, I feel bad for you. He died in ’94 and is one of the greatest comedians to have ever lived. He didn’t do knock-knock jokes, use funny faces, or prop humour. Hicks used ideas so vulgar and anti-establishment that they passed right by uncomfortable, flew by clever, and somehow ended up at hilarious and intelligent as fuck. He did it with a type of tension that builds like the odometer on your car flipping past the nine-nines and somehow resetting itself completely at zero. You knew it might be possible, but holy fuck you didn’t think someone could take it that far. Hicks was also known for his alter ego named Goat Boy. “He’s not Satan. He’s not Evil. He’s Nature.” Hicks says in his ’93 interview in the New Yorker. He says that Goat Boy believes “There is no America. It’s just a big pavement” and that to Goat Boy “it’s just land, the earth. Indian spirit—Indians would understand randy Pan, the Goat Boy. They’d probably have a mask and a celebration.” The character of Goat Boy is a strange one. It’s something older than time and society. It’s something anti-establishment and anti-capitalist and is older than either concept. Actually, it’s more precise to call these concepts anti-Goat Boy. So when a grubby, intellectual, South Londoner, four piece girl band comes out and calls themselves “Goat Girl” based on the Hicks character, you know they’re not fucking around.
It’s another debut. And ’tis a strange one. It’s a mix of Velvet Underground, Pixies, Nick Cave, Nadine Shah, and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Or, more bluntly, they’re a graduate of the I-don’t-give-a-flying-fuck academy. There are literally two songs called, “I Don’t Care” (part one and two). True to their name, they are building a world that is anti-allthisbullshit (if bullshit in this context means this vacuous, cynical, vitriolic post-Brexit Trump era). I’ve always thought that no matter the horror of a certain time in history there will be music made to combat it. This is the voice of the south-Londoner. Just because they don’t care much about what others think, or what others say they should do, doesn’t mean they don’t care about their craft (which, sometimes, was questioned when listening to the Velvet Underground). The lazy sung vocals happen to be in perfect harmony. The drum and bass playing just behind the beat just happen to play in perfect time with each other. This isn’t just four people pissing on instruments and calling it a day. This is a cultivated and structured protester art. I fucking love that shit. In the end, it produces a similar feeling in your gut to the one you had after watching Fight Club. You’re fine with taking a punch and as sure as fuck fine with giving one. Loose a tooth for a cause? Why not? Shit on the steps of a government institution? Well, I did just have a big lunch. It’s with a debut like this that the question is not, “Is it good?” it’s, “What’s next?”