The Aces have always thrived in the tension between suburbia’s small-town glare and the glitter of self-invention. Raised in Provo, Utah — a place more famous for its church steeples than for queer pop revolutions — the four childhood friends learned early how to build their own sanctuary in sound. With their fourth album Gold Star Baby, they’ve turned that sanctuary into a citywide party; a shimmering, everywhere-at-once club where the knowing nod of “if you know, you know” meets an open invitation to the summer’s most radiant gathering. It’s less an overworked concept record than a mood board of liberation; a full-bodied celebration of sapphic disco-pop freedom. Mostly self-produced, it feels like the natural endpoint of a band who have shed the obligation of painful transparency and now step onto the floor with nothing left to confess, only to revel in.
“Welcome to Gold Star Baby”. That’s how The Aces open the record; not so much singing as announcing, like they’re already inside, waving you past the velvet rope into a room you didn’t even know you wanted to be in. Imagine George Clinton’s P-Funk world stripped of cosmic costumes and rebuilt with mirror balls, neon cocktails, and a crowd that moves as one under the lights. The stars of the night? The Aces, naturally.
“Jealous” takes a first step, a lean funk guitar snapping into place, glossy melodies running smooth over lyrics that mix affection with a sly competitive streak. As much as It’s about a crush, it’s also about the charge of being seen, wanted, maybe even envied. From there, Gold Star Baby strings its songs like the hours of a perfect night out. “The Magic” is all shimmer and anticipation, the kind of track that makes you fix your hair without thinking. The title track leans into a sleek groove that feels familiar in the best way, glancing toward Doja Cat’s “Kiss Me More” in rhythm and tone without ever losing its own face. “You Got Me” is pure stamina; the song that keeps strangers dancing like they’ve known each other for years.
Then the lights dip for “The Girls Interlude”, a sly eavesdrop into a pregame phone call, friends swapping outfit ideas, plotting their arrival at The Aces’ show, planning exactly how to sidestep small talk with an ex they’re bound to see. It’s a throwaway moment that isn’t throwaway at all; the kind of detail that makes the album feel lived-in, rooted in real friendships and the little dramas that make nights unforgettable.
The second half shifts the mood. The high of the early hours softens into something more personal. “She Likes Me” drapes itself over a bassline that’s steady and low, its pop structure clean and unfussy, the sort of track that lets the vocals carry the spark. “Stroke” delivers warm acoustics, a reminder that intimacy has its own kind of heat. “Fire in the Hole” and “Twin Flame” pull the energy back up, both engineered with the full toolkit of pop elements: big hooks, layered harmonies, and a beat that’s too inviting to ignore.
By the time “Spending the Night” arrives, the party’s thinned into pairs, conversations lean-in closer, laughter slowing into something quieter. The song holds that feeling of wanting more time, of knowing the night is ending but not wanting to say it out loud. Then comes “I’m Sweet (I’m Mean)”, the closing track, and The Aces don’t tiptoe out, they bounce back in with a playful snarl, an anthem for leaving on your own terms.
When it’s over, Gold Star Baby leaves you blinking in the daylight, the kind where your shoes are scuffed, your voice is hoarse, and you’re still moving to the echo of the bass. It’s an album that doesn’t just soundtrack the night; it builds the club, fills it with people you want to know, and hands you the keys until morning.
The Aces say it best:“This album is all about joy, confidence, even cockiness, and sex appeal. We feel now that we’re grown women, we can explore those things in a way that feels authentic and exciting. This album is for anyone that’s looking for an escape in the more than challenging world we live in. This album is a celebration. Welcome to Gold Star Baby.”
It’s more than a neat tagline. Across its 12 tracks, that promise holds. The joy isn’t hollow; it’s hard-won. The confidence isn’t borrowed; it’s built from years of finding their place in a world that doesn’t always make space for it. And the sex appeal? It’s less about performance and more about ease, the glow that comes when you’ve stopped asking for permission. In a pop landscape crowded with singles engineered for the algorithm, Gold Star Baby feels like a night thrown for real people, in real rooms, with real heat in the air. You walk in as a listener; you walk out part of the story.
