In these days of planetary disarray, political entropy, and algorithmic despair, one truth rises above them all: we need more cats. Not fewer. More.
Yes, more purring kittens, chaos goblins, big-bellied voids of apathy, and alley-cat philosophers with nasty attitudes. We need the whole feline spectrum, from Cleopatra’s sacred fluffballs to the TikTok kitten chewing on a power cable. Humanity is flailing, and only cats, in their sovereign weirdness, can anchor us.
Enter Golden Brown, alias of Colorado-based guitarist Stefan Beck, with his latest record, Whisker Fatigue. A title that sounds like a punchline but lands more like a diagnosis. It’s Beck’s most ominous transmission yet under the Golden Brown name, a dread-soaked ambient trip that still, somehow, leaves room for feline grace.
But let’s not pretend this is all softness and naptime. Whisker Fatigue is not kitten GIFs. It’s the slow-motion blink of a cat who’s stared into the abyss and yawned in its face.
Beck’s discography has long been a refuge of fingerpicked lullabies, lap steel daydreams, and circuit-fried electronics, cozy stuff for staring out windows. But this record shifts the mood like a black cat crossing your path during a thunderstorm.
From the jump, opener “Beelzebufo,” named after a prehistoric devil-toad, plunges us into a mossy psychic swamp. The track unspools over fourteen sludgy minutes, stitched with creaking organ drones, haunted percussion, and Beck’s ghostly guitar work.
Beck’s work as Golden Brown has long been rooted in the natural world’s rhythms. But with “Beelzebufo,” he digs deeper, underneath the soil and into the mythic ooze. The track hums with an ancient, reptilian menace. This isn’t a place for soft-bellied mammals like us.
The soundscape pulses with a primal, pre-human energy, as if we’ve stumbled into a world that remembers what it was like before the gods and isn’t particularly thrilled we showed up.
Later comes “Boom Boom Pachyderm,” a spectral procession of smeared harmonics and funereal keys, with Jeremy Erwin of Prairiewolf lurking in the mist. It’s heavy in the way grief is heavy: strange, slow, and oceanic. A soundtrack for wandering a post-apocalyptic zoo where the animals have long since vanished, but the wind still howls through the cages.
But not all is doom and gloom. There’s sunlight glinting off the murk. The title track flickers with dubby mischief, a little wink behind the fog. “Cross Pollination” buzzes with quiet intent, with Beck’s weatherworn guitar threading through the track, steady and assured. Around it, a constellation of electronics flickers to life, charged with a wistful, otherworldly voltage.
So no, Whisker Fatigue doesn’t leave us stranded in despair. Instead, it offers a strange comfort, the way a cat curling up on your chest during a panic attack might not solve your problems, but will make them feel less pressing. This record is part dirge, part purr, and wholly Golden Brown.
It will be released on June 13th via the excellent Eiderdown Records and available as a limited edition black vinyl or digitally.
Dig in, friends. The cats are waiting.
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