Golder

Local star Haley Bonar is back with her first LP since 2008, Golder. Funded largely by altruistic fans via Kickstarter, the record finds Bonar utilizing her impressive skill set to craft thoughtful, country-tinged pop. Louder and more pop-oriented than previous efforts, Golder is Bonar’s most consumer-friendly—and strongest—album to date. 

The Haley Bonar backstory is as follows: Born in South Dakota, the singer-songwriter moved to Duluth, where she was discovered by Low and asked to join a national tour at the age of 20. From there, she built up local clout, becoming a darling of the Twin Cities media on the merit of four strong LPs. Bonar spent a “lonely” year living in Portland, Oregon where she wrote the songs for Golder, returning permanently to Minneapolis last summer.   

Haley Bonar’s early discography frequently defaulted to more ambient, down-tempo arrangements. But Bonar’s greatest strength is letting her vocals fall into 4/4 rhythms—to wax charismatic over straight-up pop songs. 2008’s Big Star—a strong LP—started the path toward overt listenability that Golder builds upon. The album’s opener, “Candy Machine Gun,” begins with brisk acoustic guitar swipes over building drums; it’s a move that eventually swells into full-on rock. The one-two punch of “Daddy” and “Money” are strong middle tracks; the former’s a sparse, piano-anchored love letter to dads while the latter’s a swaggering, vaguely Fleetwood Mac-ian stomper. Relics of Bonar’s more atmospheric, chamber-pop days dot the album (“Sad Baby,” “Leo”), but she’s comfortably moving into a livelier niche. Nowhere is that more evident than on “Bad for You,” an infectiously charismatic folk ditty. “Don’t eat. / Don’t chew. / Don’t drive your car / or pick up strange men from the bar. / Don’t pet stray cats or smoke cigars, / ’cause all of it’s bad for you,” Bonar perkily advises on this playfully plucky bit of piano pop. “Bad for You” is newish territory for her, a tune akin to Bright Eyes’ surprising 2004 song “True Blue,” but it absolutely works.

Golder is a remarkably cohesive and digestible outing for Bonar. If she was lonely or felt misplaced when writing these songs in Portland, it doesn’t show; this is the most comfortable she’s sounded on record. The same ingredients that propel a Feist or Neko Case into the national consciousness are alive in Bonar: tactful songwriting, pop sensibilities, charisma, and arrangements that fit. It’s unlikely she’ll ever reach their tier of popularity, but the Twin Cities will eagerly lap up more albums like this.