Ghost Beach - Blonde

It’s difficult knowing what to make of something that sounds as instantly familiar as Ghost Beach’s debut. On the one hand, the chords are well-worn pop staples matched by skilful, if unoriginal production. On the other, ‘Blonde’ sounds like the best forgotten album Duran Duran ever made.

The duo that is Ghost Beach describe their sound as ‘Tropical Gothic Pop’ which, for once, feels like a genuinely accurate self-assessment from a new band. It’s also a vital confirmation that Ghost Beach are fully aware of the much-travelled musical highway they’re on, and the only thing that stops ‘Blonde’ from sliding into a derivative 80s sinkhole.

Because let’s be straight, as singers go, Josh Ocean sounds like someone who should always be followed by a large wind fan in which his sumptuous (if as yet imaginary) mullet should be allowed to flow forever free. Synth-master Eric ‘Doc’ Mendelsohn meanwhile, has taken nothing but the bounciest bass lines and most shimmering of guitar chords from the era to give them the occasional contemporary EDM twist. All in all, when Ocean reaches the chorus of ‘On My Side’ and sings in plaintive climax that, ‘I belong on a neon beach in the sun’, it’s genuinely a fitting metaphor for this part 80s homage, part original creation.

But hell, it’s fun. This really is the ‘GTA Vice City’ of albums and ‘Blonde’ certainly holds its own against a comparable catalogue of platinum-selling originals. Album opener ‘Moon Over Japan’ is a classical exercise in pop gloss from opening drum rush to final bass rumble. Ocean’s alto vocal floats in and out of comprehension, scattering words like ‘heat’, ‘emotion’ ‘heart’ and ‘forever’ like a sprinkler being played back on slow-motion; all you can do is sit there and enjoy the hell out of it.

You’d be lying if you said there was much variation on this theme for the rest of the album though. By the time we’ve reached track three, it’s easy to sympathise with the eponymous line, ‘I feel like I’ve been there before’. That said, with slow brooding numbers like ‘Tear Us Apart’ and ‘Faded’ placed alongside a distinctly UB40-esque ‘Without You’, there’s more than enough variety to keep you going for the entire twelve tracks.

Ultimately, this is either the musical equivalent of seeing your old clothes in a vintage store, or this album has been hardwired into our central nervous system. It’s praise enough to say that after several listens you can’t quite decide which one it is. Even higher praise is that you still want to go back and listen to find out.