Nicolaus has crafted a truly engaging set of oddball pop songs that deftly blur the line between the convoluted lives of those who populate the pages of Cheever's evocative short stories and Nicolaus' own triumphs and misfortunes.
Nearly every chorus on Golden Suits is catchy, but not at the expense of the actual lyrics - there does not really seem to be an empty line anywhere to be found on this album.
Whilst not wholly unique, Golden Suits is undeniably individual - a wholehearted, open but personal space - built from imagination, memories, stories: what he knows and who he knows.
What’s ultimately the biggest problem with this record isn’t its conceptual failure but rather its unerring tastefulness. At times it’s crying out for a bit of grit, a bit of danger or maybe just a big, dirty guitar riff – anything, really, to jolt the album out of its overly academic atmosphere.
On the surface, Golden Suits is a lilting folk-pop record, deliberate as they come, swimming in sumptuous, sunlit arrangements.