Originally
published on isnotwas.com
Doves might still be operating as the dance
act Sub Sub had a fire not torn through their studio a few years
back, taking with it all their equipment, the master tapes of
their previous releases, and (cringe) unreleased collaborations
with Tricky and New Order's Bernard Sumner. With an attitude that’s
either impressively Zen or fatalistic, founding band member Jez
Williams has said, "It was a good cut off point, the fire.
It kept things interesting. At the end of the day it's the music
that stands up. And I think ours does.” And so Jez, his
brother Andy and old school chum Jimi Goodwin started all over
again, this time as the three-piece band Doves.
Lucky us. As Sub Sub, these blokes released
a coupla hit dances tunes; as Doves they’ve released an
album that’s being called one of the best releases of the
year 2000.
And Doves haven’t parted
ways with their past entirely. Not many rock acts would have the
Christmas-tree ornaments to open their debut album with an instrumental.
Maybe because they aren’t really a rock band, Doves get
away with precisely that on Lost Souls. The lovely first
track “Firesuite” has some vocal samples, but no lyrics.
It positively trembles with drama, and the subtle samples threaded
through the song all hint at Doves’ previous incarnation.
Their electronic pre-history rears its head
elsewhere, too—in the subtle sampling, scratching, and soft,
smothered vocals on “Break Me Gently,” for example.
But all of those effects take a back seat to the lovely crisp
guitars, which actually drive the track. “Sea Song”
isn’t without effects either, but it’s a comparatively
long soaring, stirring track again propelled by guitars, and the
Galaga sound effects don’t break into the track until it’s
almost run out of steam. Parts of “Catch the Sun”
gave me a New Order-esque buzz, again reinforcing the dance heritage
again, even if the track does contain the heaviest guitars on
the disc.
“The Cedar Room” is another
one of the album’s harder driving tracks. Quasi-anthemic,
it’s steadily propelled with heavier drums and guitars and
handclaps. It may drive a little faster and heavier, but it still
manages to glide.
Melancholy, slightly soporific
songs comprise the balance of Lost Souls, songs that
slip uninvited into your subconscious only to stomp around in
the muck back there. These songs are almost uniformly barren upon
first approach, but soon sweet supple unassuming numbers like
“Here It Comes,” “Sea Song” and “Lost
Souls” win you over with their intense yearning and plain
ol’ catchiness. “Here It Comes,” for example,
positively swings but still manages to whittle a hole deep into
your soul. And in contrast to Bowie’s “Man Who Sold
Everything,” Dove’s lilting tale of a lonesome bloke
is “The Man Who Told Everything.” These are songs
that yawn wide open and suck you in.
Doves are sort of an inverse doppelganger
to their label-mates the Chemical Brothers: the Chems enjoy their
electronica laced with a little rock ‘n’ roll; Doves
enjoy their rock ‘n’ roll laced with a little electronica.
Breezy, jangly. Lovely, lonely. Lost Souls is a shimmering
jewel of an album.
9/10
Robert Stribley
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