Bush – Golden State (2001) Review

Bush spent the second half of the ’90s trying to outrun an argument.

Sixteen Stone made them stars but left them buried under Nirvana comparisons. Razorblade Suitcase tried to answer the critics with rawness and Steve Albini, only to prove that “credibility” was a moving target.

But by the time their fourth record arrived in October 2001, the band had finally reached a more useful conclusion: stop reacting, and start leaning fully into what they actually do well.

That decision suits them beautifully. Golden State takes the thicker production and melodic confidence of The Science of Things, sands down the remaining rough edges, and turns Bush into the sleek, hook-heavy radio-rock band they’d been circling ever since 1995’s Machinehead.

It also makes for the most satisfying listen of their career.

The Sound They Were Always Meant to Make

What jumps out immediately is how comfortable Bush sound in this polished environment.

The opening track, Solutions, acts like a bridge from everything that came before: a moodier, more brooding introduction that quickly gives way to the kind of broad, muscular chorus this band had spent years trying to perfect. From this point on, the record leans hard into melodic arrangements, cleaner production, and songs built to land quickly without losing weight.

That’s the key difference. Earlier Bush albums often felt torn between instincts — between abrasion and accessibility, between proving a point and writing a hit. Golden State no longer fights itself. It simply backs Gavin Rossdale’s strongest trait: his ability to write massive, radio-friendly choruses and make them sound like they belong in a real rock band.

Captain Hook

The British rockers’ confidence in their new surroundings pays off all over the record.

The People That We Love is the obvious statement of intent: direct, urgent, and built around a riff that was written specifically for rock radio. The song became the album’s lead single, reaching No. 5 on Billboard’s Alternative Airplay chart and No. 4 on Mainstream Rock.

It’s a template they return to time and time again — Hurricane, Superman, Fugitive, Reasons — and why wouldn’t they? The choruses hit harder, the arrangements feel more purposeful, and Rossdale finally sounds like a frontman willing to let the songs carry him forward instead of half-hiding behind atmosphere or detachment.

This is a radical breakthrough for Bush, because it is the first time their melodic side feels fully trusted rather than apologised for.

"Are you drowning or waving?"

OUT OF THIS WORLD

The Closing Stretch Seals It

The final third is where Golden State really earns its reputation.

Land of the Living is a perfect example of how strong Rossdale had become at writing polished rock songs without sanding away all the bite. No longer denying his gift, there’s a moment at 2:57 where he finally unleashes his full might in a towering segment that manages to release eight years of frustration.

This is followed by My Engine Is With You, which finds the band sounding genuinely energised — heavier, looser, and more alive than they had in years.

From there, the haunting Out of This World and Float close the album with real poise. The former is spacious yet direct in a way Razorblade Suitcase tried and failed, while the latter hits like a proper closer: melodic, dramatic, and featuring a wonderful pre-chorus key change that leaves a mark.

If the early Bush albums often felt front-loaded, Golden State does the opposite.

The Cost of the Polish

The studio sheen is both the album’s greatest strength and its clearest limitation.

Because while there’s no doubt that the extra layer of gloss flatters Gavin Rossdale’s songwriting, it inevitably sands away some of the rawness that once made Bush feel quite volatile. There are moments — Headful of Ghosts — where the old quiet-loud formula creeps back in and reminds you how close they still are to the grunge grammar they’d spent years trying to escape.

And in hindsight, that smoother finish wasn’t universally loved inside the band either. Golden State would be the last Bush album to feature guitarist Nigel Pulsford and bassist Dave Parsons, and Pulsford later spoke negatively about the final mix.

“Golden State suffered from too much Pro Tools and I don’t think it sounds very good. All the life was produced out of it. It’s a shame because the basic backing tracks sounded great. Gavin and I had a big disagreement over the mixes, and I don’t think we ever quite recovered from that.”

– Nigel Pulsford

Wrong Place, Wrong Time

A lot of Golden State’s story happened outside the songs.

The album’s rollout was derailed by the September 11 attacks: the original cover artwork, which featured the outline of a passenger plane, was pulled, and the lead single The People That We Love had originally been titled Speed Kills before being changed out of sensitivity. Rossdale also altered the lyric in Headful of Ghosts from “terrorist” to “maverick.”

The timing of the record also ran into a musical problem.

Because despite the fact it received positive reviews and achieved a respectable level of chart success — No. 22 on the Billboard 200 and No. 4 on the UK’s Rock & Metal Albums chart — it arrived into a musical climate that was already pulling away from mainstream rock and post-grunge in favour of nu-metal.

And that’s the real frustration of Golden State — Bush finally found the balance they’d been chasing, just as the ground beneath them shifted.

"You're so pretty in white,
Pretty when you're faithful."

INFLATABLE

Aftermath and Legacy

In hindsight, Golden State feels like the end of Bush’s first life as a band.

After the surprise resignation of founding member Nigel Pulsford midway though accompanying North American tour, axeman Chris Traynor was drafted in to help the band finish the remaining dates.

However, with record sales cooling and support from their label fading fast, Bush slipped into what would eventually become an eight year hiatus.

Bush – Golden State

Golden State may lack the monster cultural footprint of Sixteen Stone, and it certainly doesn’t have the same rough bite as the early records.

But judged as an album — as a start-to-finish listening experience — it’s their strongest to date.

The hooks are everywhere. The pacing is excellent. The production flatters rather than smothers, and frontman Gavin Rossdale sounds completely at home in this broader, brighter version of the band.

It’s the crowning achievement of Bush’s career.