They can already boast of an Xfm playlist, and support from 6 Music and spot plays on Radio 2 not bad going for only one release to date. If you were going to catch one live show this year at Latitude, Bestival or indeed at any other venues graced by this band on their extensive tour including a London residency, you need to catch it, from one of the most exciting young electro-glam-stomp pop bands in Britain and that is definitely; Rosie & The Goldbug.
Hailing from the west country of Cornwall, Rosie & The Goldbug formed in 2007 after enchanting lead vocalist Rosie, who had been away at Uni studying music, decided to return to her roots with the sole purpose of forming a band; “the course was all about studying mundane jazz modes and it made me realise I wanted to just write three chord pop tunes and rebel”. Fed up fronting a band “full of belchin’ ‘n’ fartin’ lads who seemed intent on playing boring old indie-guitar wank”, Rosie saw an escape route when meeting Plums for the first time. Joined by pounding bass player Pixie (her sister’s pointy-eared boyfriend – hence the elfish nickname) and utterly mesmerising female drummer Plums (previously of Japanese drumming group Kagemusha Taiko), Rosie & The Goldbug are a razor-sharp three pronged trio to be reckoned with.

Born into a fantastically eccentric musical family, Rosie was taught from an early age to play the Piano; she recalls rather fondly of being literally locked in a room to do so – protesting as a child by spending the majority of her allocated piano practise time by attacking it! As you will see from the jaw-dropping electric live shows, this anger towards the unassuming piano does tend to reveal itself, although in a controlled manner now of course. These days Rosie’s got the Goldbug with Plums and Pixie by her side with whom to fight her battles.

Working alongside producer Jim Eliot, one half of Kish Mauve (top electro duo whose track 2 Hearts was covered by Kylie Minogue for her comeback single) Rosie & The Goldbug have been forming some impressive partnerships. One of which includes co-writing with Marcella Detroit (formerly of Shakespear’s Sister) and Glasgow band El Presidente. For all her love of Kate Bush and Tori Amos, Rosie also loves cheesy Eighties nonsense – the band’s cover of Duran Duran’s Planet Earth is a highlight of their live set, and a bit of a party. “Some of our stuff had gotten a bit heavy and complicated”, admits this ever-candid pop-star-in-waiting, “and El Presidente’s music is just up and having it – I felt I wanted a bit of that, so we wrote You’ve Changed together”.

You can expect one of the most thrilling debut albums of 2008 from these guys.

September

10th – Ruby Lounge - MANCHESTER
11th – Thekla – BRISTOL
12th - Dog House – RUNCORN
13th – Stealth – NOTTINGHAM
15th – HMV instore - TRURO
16th – Soho review bar – LONDON
18th – Orange Rooms – SOUTHAMPTON
19th – Barfly – CARDIFF
20th – Koola Bar – NEWQUAY

October

3rd – Riffs - SWINDON
5th – KoKo, Camden – LONDON
15th – Start the Bus – BRISTOL
19th – Barbequtie Boogaloo – LONDON
31st – Imperial College – LONDON (hosted by Colin Murray)

November

1st – Stay Beautiful at the Purple Turtle – LONDON

BIOGRAPHY

Out on the wilds of Bodmin Moor, little Rosie Vanier was wrestling with obsession.

There were her eccentric parents’ obsessions: extrovert mum (from Bristol) and cosmic dad (a part-Native American lovechild from South America) were self-taught folk musicians who decided they had to take their music round Europe – on a tandem. Then, in search of the good life, they moved to deepest Cornwall, to the moors, to a plot of a land with no electricity. The only heat came from chasing the chickens (for food) and riding the horses (for fun). For Rosie and her older sister, TV was nothing more than a rumour.

At the local primary, the entire school roll – Rosie, her sister and one other girl – spent long days copying calligraphy cards. The school didn’t have much, but what it did have was a profusion of shiny red metallic paper. ‘I spent a lot of time making things out of that,’ Rosie recalls brightly. ‘Anything sparkly became an obsession in this barren landscape.’ To this day, Rosie red. By the time the tiny school closed down – three pupils weren’t enough to justify a staff of six – and Rosie moved to a proper school, she was hopelessly behind in bog-standard learnin’ stuff. (But if you wanted a beautifully inscribed and designed Valentine’s card, Rosie was your chick.)

Meanwhile, back home at cold comfort farm, Rosie was being locked away in her bedroom. Her musician parents were self-taught; perhaps unwilling to condemn their daughters to a career pedaling around Europe (if Rosie ever went on tour, it would be transit van or nothing), they insisted they have piano lessons, and that they spend hours in their room practicing. A resentful Rosie, never one to take anything sitting down, would spend most of her practice time hovering over the keys, ‘attacking it! That’s one of the reasons I beat up the piano on stage now – revenge!’ she laughs.

Rosie mentions her song Butterfly, a punchy two-fingers (imagine Kate Bush fronting Goldfrapp) to a boy who ‘was a real maggot’. She says there are a lot of boys like that in Launceston, the small Cornwall town in which she spent her teens. ‘They drive these fancy chav cars and they add all the alloys and stuff. But all that’s inside is this gross little maggot driving. And I just want to stamp on them! It’s venting an aggression but also a love for all that ‘cause it’s so ridiculous.’

And anyway, that aggression has deeper roots: ‘Butterfly was one of the first songs I wrote and I was getting really pissed off, and I started smacking the shit out of the piano. That was something I used to do at piano practice, and then eventually something I did at gigs as well. I’ve cut back a bit now. I’m not quite so angry these days.’

And no wonder. These days, Rosie’s obsessions find form in the glam-stomp pop dramas that make her band one of the most exciting young bands in Britain, and that make her an excitingly glamazon frontwoman. These days Rosie’s got the Goldbug – aka drummer Plums and bass player Pixie – with whom to fight her battles. These days, Rosie’s escaped Cornwall and found a new obsession: recording the most thrilling debut album of 2008.

Under the glasscrete pavements of Fitzrovia, Rosie And The Goldbug are beavering away. Squirreled into a tiny basement studio in central London, Rosie, Pixie and Plums – and the occasional cellist pal – are working with producer Jim Eliot. He’s the sonic wunderkind who’s half of Kish Mauve, the electro-pop duo whose song 2 Hearts Kylie Minogue covered for her comeback single. ‘They’re like a really cool Blondie with an electronic twist,’ offers Pixie by way of explaining why the West Country trio chose to work with Eliot. ‘That’s what fascinated us – we wanted to bring a bit of that into our music.’

‘He’s young as well,’ adds Plums, ‘so it feels like he’s on the same wavelength as well.’

It’s a dream partnership, the fruits of which are immediately obvious on Lover and War Of The Roses. The former is an epic, boogie-down anthem of lust; the latter is a hammering synth-pop belter. As if Giorgio Moroder was rebooted as a noughties Cornish indie-diva (instead of being an old Italian bloke).

Rosie: ‘It’s really feisty, like a kick in the balls – not that I have any balls. It’s great to play live. It’s about being pissed off with someone not coming home and throwing away the stuff you made for their dinner. Although it’s less about the lyrics than the emotion of making a fuck-off noise.’

Plums: ‘If you’re a bit pissed off, put it on and jump around for a bit. That’ll sort you out.’

Pixie: ‘It’s almost like a Thin Lizzy tune but on a synth. It’s quite heavy actually.’

Rosie: ‘It’s definitely got a bit of metal in it.’

The energy and excitement of both songs betray the serious amount of gigging the band have put in during their short existence: they spent most of last year ‘gigging like maniacs’, performing some 150 shows all over the south-west and in London, attracting the interest of management, promoters, publishers and labels in the process.

They formed in early 2007: Rosie, who’d studied music at Roehampton University outside London – ‘the course was all about studying pretentious jazz modes and it made me realise I wanted to just write three chord pop tunes and rebel’ – had returned to Cornwall to start a band. Pixie is her sister’s boyfriend; his compact stature and – to be frank – his pointy ears account for his nickname. But there’s nothing petite about his playing: he wallops out big fat bass sounds. It’s as if he’s channelling the pound and roar of the sea he grew up with, courtesy of hippie-surfer parents and a childhood/youth that was largely spent in a beachside caravan.

Plums and Pixie were at university in Exmouth together (in fact, they still are). Then, Plums’ old band supported Rosie’s old band. Rosie, fed up fronting a band full of belchin’ ‘n’ fartin’ lads who seemed intent on playing boring old indie-guitar wank, saw an escape route. After all, Plums is like no other drummer you’ve ever seen. She’s mesmerising onstage, all Keith Moon limbs and Aladdin Sane attitude. Maybe some of that comes from her time as a teenage member of Kagemusha Taiko, an internationally renowned Exeter-based Japanese drumming group, maybe it just comes from the fact that Plums is, like both her band-mates, a full-force character. Rosie And The Goldbug are a trio with three razor-sharp points.

‘I saw Plums on the drums,’ recalls Rosie, ‘and I was like, I have to be in a band with her! I kept on phoning and texting her and eventually she said yes.’

There was an immediate connection – one that deepened when Rosie wrote Heartbreak. It’s a robo-disco throbber, propelled by a rich, sob-in-the-throat vocals from the frontwoman, plus a beautifully evocative middle-eight built round cello.

‘It’s actually about Plums when she came out about being a lezzer,’ says the spade’s-a-fricking-spade singer in this profoundly close-knit band. ‘And it was such a sweet moment, ‘cause it was all very hard for her - she actually thought we were gonna kick her out the band for it!’

‘I thought they’d think I was spreading disease or something,’ laughs Plums.

‘And I just thought it was so beautiful - she blossomed into this little flower. So the lyrics are really basic but it’s all about saying, what does it matter? Nothing else matters but love.’

How does Plums feel about this? Chuffed to bits, it seems. ‘I think it’s really cool - I feel empowered as a gay!’

Rosie’s writing has been blossoming in other ways too. Last year, in between all those gigs, at the suggestion of London music publishers, Rosie spent time writing with Marcella Detroit (formerly of Shakespear’s Sister) and Glasgow band El Presidente.

‘I learnt a lot from Marcella. One thing I didn’t realise is, I find it hard to write about myself – I like writing about other people and telling stories,’ she notes, something her wild Cornish upbringing perhaps made inevitable. ‘She picked up on that and made me write some songs about myself. I know it seems quite an obvious thing but I was quite insecure about it. Some artists write about themselves so much it makes me wanna vomit, it’s just disgusting, so I was steering well away from that. But she said, at the end of the day, people do want to ear a little about you. We wrote one song together like that, Soldier Blues.’

El Presidente, meanwhile, brought something else to the party. For all her love of Kate Bush and Tori Amos, Rosie also loves cheesy Eighties nonsense – the band’s cover of Duran Duran’s Planet Earth is a highlight of their live set – and a bit of a party. ‘And some of our stuff had gotten a bit heavy and complicated,’ admits this ever-candid pop-star-in-waiting, ‘and El Presidente’s music is just up and having it – I felt I wanted a bit of that, so we wrote You’ve Changed together.’

It’s time to get back to work, to get back beneath the pavement, back into the tiny hive of creativity in which Rosie And The Goldbug are finishing off an album that manages to be both slinky and throbby, intimate and powerful, emotional and hedonistic, big and clever.

Backed by her two kindred spirits Rosie – the little girl who had to explore her own imagination out in the empty wilds of Bodmin Moor – is determined to see out her own vision, no compromise nor short-cuts nor interference allowed. So much so that the band are forming their own label to release their album.

The ‘Goldbug’ name, meanwhile, comes from a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, whose gothic grandeur Rosie has long felt an affinity for.

‘The imagery he conjured up, I could really relate to it from where I grew up – the darkness hit home. I just carry a lot of my weird childhood with me wherever I go. Also, I liked the idea of having a name like Siouxsie and the Banshees or Adam and the Ants. And I like a lot of Egyptian and 1920s imagery, so the scarab beetle really fitted with that.

‘And also, Plums and Pixie together this noise just like a goldbug: this big bass and drums, which are the driving force behind my piano. Together, the three of us are just rocking it.’

The battered piano, throbbing beats, buzzpop psychodrama and disco-diva magic of Rosie and the Goldbug

www.myspace.com/rosieandthegoldbug



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