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"Gold Box Kingdom releases Heavy & Light (full length CD)"

The dulcet tones of local chanteuse (Amy B) Amy Bruckmeier shimmer throughout this record. From the first notes of the relaxed, charming title track, it's clear that no one's in a hurry here -- as Bruckmeier's vocals soar and soothe above sparse, colorful arrangements. Heavy & Light is much more of the latter than the former -- music for a sunny Sunday picnic at the beach or cold beers on the front porch. Dotted with drum loops, acoustic strumming, and sprightly samples, Gold Box Kingdom's debut is pretty, patient, and strangely calming. Though a lyric on the album's playful highlight "Suede Pumas" reads, "She wants the world to know / her hip-huggers lack material," the same can't be said of Gold Box Kingdom. Catch them live at Papa Toby's Café on April 11. - SF Weekly (reviewer Scott Wagner)


Title TBD (full length recording coming early 2008)

Gold Box Kingdom (featuring AMY B) Heavy & Light: produced by Dave Tweedie, is a collection of songs lush with keyboards, strings, drum loops, acoustic guitar; she sings about magazine girls, suede pumas, love and soul.

AMY B A Fan Of Tangerine: produced by Justin Phelps and Amy Bruckmeier (Amy B), is a collection of twelve songs, all recorded live on analog tape in San Francisco. Amy B sings about sunsets, being a fan of tangerine and spending twelve hours in a Greyhound bus station as well as of love, lust and loss.



“Write out the words on an unpaid bill, hide ‘em away until raindrops fall on desert sand or until I hold you close to me again. Let’s not talk anymore today, I’d rather dance with you anyway, then you won’t have to think up polite ways to say that I’m a puppet on a string, tangled up in everything, and there’s no escape until the master calls it or the curtain falls”. words from 'Puppet On A String' by Gold Box Kingdom (A. Bruckmeier/J. Dobrin).

A fan of Jimi Hendrix, The Meters, Prince, The White Stripes and Beck, Bruckmeier would be the first to say that she sounds most like…none of them. In fact, her music is not easy to categorize.

On her new collection of songs (due out in early 2008), Bruckmeier is working with producer Jim Greer and co-producer, co-writer Justus Dobrin, to add a touch of Air, Beck, and Stereolab to the overall sound. This project is called GOLD BOX KINGDOM, and this will be the second full length album from this band. This time around she sings about brainwashing machines, gambling with fate, and global warming; she sings about escapism and realism. On half of the album, they recorded with a live band at Studio C in San Francisco, while the other songs are a mixture of studio science and live instruments, recorded at Bowl Noodle North, SF. Her voice, reminiscent of Chrissie Hynde and Nina Persson (the Cardigans), sounds more soulful than ever. Her guitar playing ranges from bluegrass style finger-picking to sparse melodic hooks to laid back rhythm; all of which emphasize the message in their finely-crafted pop songs. Justus Dobrin, as well as cowriting the songs, adds in all the necessary keyboard wizardry to make the songs come to life. Brew all this up with a touch of groovy, funky psychedelia, and yes, this would be pretty close to what Gold Box Kingdom sounds like.

A singer, songwriter and guitarist, Amy Bruckmeier is from Berkeley, CA. She has released two full length CDs to date; a debut album from Gold Box Kingdom and one under her own name, AMY B. On the new collection, due out January 2008, she is working with producer Jim Greer and co-writer, co-producer Justus Dobrin. This is the second album from Gold Box Kingdom.


But...hear AMY B tell it in her own words:

I grew up in Berkeley, California. I played under the eucalyptus trees in the bright, green grass at La Loma park, pretending to dry abalone on the rocks on the hillside. I sang in the Oakland Children’s chorus and dreamed of being told I was ‘too loud’ by the choir director. But, I was kind of a quiet singer, so I just sang my parts along with everybody else. I played kick the can. I tacked pictures of palm trees and sunsets onto my walls. I played piano, under the tutelage of my Dad, a classical pianist. In high school I sang. I sang solo. I sang for dance performances. I sang in front of the mirror. I sang with my friend who was tone deaf. I learned from various wonderful teachers. I sang in the Gospel Chorus, even though I am not a religious person.

Then I went off to college at UC Santa Cruz and discovered Jimi Hendrix and John Frusciante. My world changed and I wanted to play guitar. My first electric guitar was a plastic piece of junk called The Growler. I took lessons from a bunch of guys: a guy in a guitar shop on Pacific Ave., from a guy who lived on a boat in the Santa Cruz Harbor, from a guy with long, black hair who let me pay for my lessons with chocolate chip cookies, from a guy who lived with his girlfriend who hated me, and from a guy who was in jail until recently when I saw him at the Farmer’s Market. I drove a Fiat Brava around until the clutch fell through the floor of the car and it just sat parked, with the door opened out onto the sidewalk. I sold that car to a heroin addict named Ralph for $50 and hitched a ride back to Berkeley.

Once in Berkeley, I holed up in an apartment and wrote as many songs as I could. I worked as a waitress at Saul’s Delicatessen. Once, when a group of four guys pointed out a piece of parsley on an appetizer plate, I licked it off, put it back on the table and said “That clean enough?” I got a large tip. I must have served up at least 1,274,395 Pastrami sandwiches. Then, when the idea of serving one more side of coleslaw made me want to cry, I headed south. Not to Los Angeles. I moved to Baton Rouge, Louisiana. I played at open mic night’s at Tabby’s Joint and at Rayful Neal’s Starlight Diamond Lounge. Rayful’s daughter could silence a room with her hips. My gracious host, a Louisiana native named Bru Bruser, introduced me to the music of The Meters, James Booker, Professor Longhair and the Wild Magnolias.

I returned to California. I played at every open mic I could find. At these open mics I met a vast array of local musicians: people like Larry, who played drums on a selection of white plastic overturned buckets, or Tom who once showed up to pla