Oh Fuck man, I feel like I just ate a bag of sugar coated sunshine. Gold Coast by Imaginary People is a blast of sticky warmth that makes mandatory hourly underpant changes necessary. Deliciously light poppy rhythms bathed in a glowing guitar sound and vocals that have that warbly feel that either indicates that the singer is being tickled or on the verge of a nervous breakdown (or maybe both). The shit just cracks all sorts of heat out of my stomach. I could warm my hands to this fucker if they weren't so busy rearranging my junk after Imaginary People jostled ole Johnny Tremaine* out of position.
*The name of my junk since 6th grade.