***mp3s removed at IFPI Request***Well, it's finally here. The day that I've been waiting for for four years has finally arrived. Doves' new album, "Kingdom of Rust" comes out today, and if you only buy one album this year (God forbid!) for goodness sakes, let it be this one!
"Kingdom of Rust" is new and familiar, comforting and groundbreaking. It's different without being alienating. After 4 years of waiting, that simple statement is a huge sigh of relief for myself and countless Doves fans across the world. They could have borked it. They could have spent five years insulated in their country house, recording some kind of experimental noise garbage. But they didn't. I wouldn't have expected them to, but as any music fan will tell you, it's always a fear, especially when it's one of your favorite bands we're talking about. You want something new. You NEED something new, and you hope that it will be amazing. On this point, Doves deliver in spades.
Let's not mince words: this album is incredible. Start to finish, absolutely incredible. I can't even bring myself to coherently review this album, given how close this band is to my heart and my soul. Instead, I'll continue that experience of listening to "Jetstream" for the first time back in January (God, was it that long ago? It seems like yesterday!).
"Jetstream"
There is a car speeding down the motorway, reflectors in the road flashing flashing flashing, the drum beats marking out the speed, mist clinging to the windshield, speeding away, up and back, speeding speeding speeding, streetlamps whizz by, darkness and stars, streaks of light and fogging windows, the car is close but comfortable, close friends and closer music. It's intimate like a shared secret in a hot club, sweat and flush, but not with a stranger, someone closer than that, someone you've always loved and just now found out they felt the same. There's a rush of not knowing if this will ever happen again, but there's a promise in the kiss, in the way the hot arms are wrapped around you, it's not just a one time thing, there's more to it than that, there's much more in store for you.
"Kingdom of Rust"
The folksy acoustic guitar sounds old, it IS old. The dust is rising in the corner, motes rising in the golden streaks of sunlight. The room is quiet and warm. The door swings open and a breeze lures you outside. The spring grasses are a green carpet broken by parallels of white-grey sidewalk. The buds on the trees are a sign of hope, of the coming change, the warm. You walk and the wind plays with your shirt, billowing and flattening, your hair plays along. The song walks with you down the street, one of the first warm days and it won't go to waste. But in the distance - is it the west or the north? - you see the darkness of a spring storm gathering, a sinister turn midway through the song. But across the sky, the sun is still shining, the cool draft from the clouds still miles away. The high streaks of white are still benign over here, the day is still kind, it's still spring and the wind is still playful.
"The Outsiders"
There's a spaceship above you. The whirling lights and fog are whipping around faster faster faster. You stare in amazement, mouth agape, eyes dry. A light slams into the ground to your left, the ground grumbles in protest, the grass flattened.
And just as soon as it's arrived, it shimmers out of sight, leaving you alone with your thoughts, and a soft smelling woman at your side. She wasn't there before, now it's just the two of you in the universe. The lights are still glowing red and orange, afterimages burning when you blink. The stars come back into focus and you feel a cool hand wrap around yours. You don't need to look over to know what she looks like, to know what she wants. You just squeeze back, answering everything with that small kindness.
"Winter Hill"
It's early morning and there are birds. The birds are different here, but still the same. There's a triangle of sunlight and shadow on the ceiling and you stare.
You drift and slide, dreams and awake, drums and guitars and light and wind. It's not cold anymore. You know where this is, but you've never been. There's a track in front of you, brown and grey rocks strewn in matching tracks. There's a cut in the hill to your right, the grass overhanging in long green drapes, brown-black dirt clinging to the roots and you walk. You may be at the bottom, but you can see the green, sunlit crest of this hill. The top is a haven, a destination where everything will be okay, all these problems and drama and bullshit, they're all gone. The only thing that matters is you and the grass and the sun and the wind.
"10:03"
The weariness has set in. It's later than you thought, the night nearing morning. You rub the tired out of your eyes, pinching your nose and trying not to worry. There's a single lamp on, and it's in the other room. The light leaks into the corner here, halos grace the edge of your vision, and your pupils dilate. You see the sun creeping over the horizon, gauzy grey light pushing back the blackness and you get excited. Your heart pounds like it hasn't in ages; it's almost time. It would be a disservice to call this feeling in your stomach butterflies, more like a flock of birds careening through the sky.
You stand and before you know it you're out the door and you've forgotten why you've come. It's cold and the tired comes back worse than before. You rub your eyes and stumble back inside, asleep before you hit the pillow.
"The Greatest Denier"
The beach isn't empty today. There is a family about a hundred yards down the way with a picnic basket and a blanket. It's too cold to swim, but the sunshine has finally warmed the sand. From the bench you can see the miles of pebbly beach, waves turn to whitecaps far out into the surf. The white and blue and green buildings are to your back, but you don't have to look to know that they're there. You've lived in this town your whole life, you drove your car to the end of that pier when you were 17, Cherie Tate promised you she would go all the way that night, but she didn't. She never did, and now she's got three kids and lives in Surrey with her husband. The picnicking family has packed up and are trundling back to the car, the small boy is carrying the sandy blanket. He looks like every little boy, like you and like Cherie's three sons did. They all look the same.
"Birds Flew Backwards"
Out here all alone feels right. It was too busy in the city, too many people, too much motion. Now it's just the birds and the grass and the sky. The car is out of sight and the clouds look incredible. When you close your eyes you can still see the sun and the blue and the shapes. You stare up, the grass cool on the backs of your ears and the back of your neck and you smile. Calm.
"Spellbound"
It feels like home, this. The warm blanket of guitars and everything else, heavy on your chest, comforting. It's the steam from a cup of coffee, sweaters inside and a matte-white sky out the kitchen window. There's a kettle on the cool stove, sky blue and nicked on the spout. The wood table is worn, it's seen fifty years and has at least fifty more in it, the edges smooth and the top dark and glassy. Everyone that you love is in the other room, peals of laughter and conversation burst into the kitchen every few minutes and you smile with your eyes, happy.
"Compulsion"
The deep bass thumps from the other room and there's something sinister in the air. It's a dark shadow across the street or a heaviness in the room. Something bad is going to happen, or already has, or already is.
A thump through the wall and you jump. There haven't been any screams, it could just be your imagination. It was probably nothing.
A door slams and stomping through the hallway. A shadow cuts across the sliver of light under your doorway. Your heart jumps and the adrenaline surges through your veins, your foot twitches.
A few moments later and a second shadow follows the first, something heavy and solid slides across the floor. You jump up and run to the door, action in your heart even if your mind is screaming, "No!"
The second figure is on the street when you catch up to them, he's running now and you're running and the solid thing is nowhere to be seen. It's a chase for something or nothing, you have no idea.
A car screeches in the distance and you put your hands on your knees, catching your breath as you watch them getting away.
"House of Mirrors"
The lights are chasing each other across the ceiling of the dark venue. The purple and blue and green, swirling and crossing, they're dizzying. There's six hundred people pumping their fists and swinging their heads in time, a single mass of bodies and arms all in sync. The drums drive and the guitars are a swampy beast all their own, stalking the stage, the room, the bodies.
It's hot when the brief break allows everyone to catch their breath, a short respite from the pumping, from the bouncing, from the stomping.
As the song gears towards it's conclusion, a furor is building, energy compressing the crowd into a cohesive whole, no longer a mass of bodies and arms, but rather one body, many arms, energy and sound.
"Lifelines"
If "Jetstream" was a car ride on a drizzly night, "Lifelines" is an exhaltant cruise across green hills and cerulean skies. The windows are down, warm wind in your hair and arms drawing waves over the speeding black asphalt. The days are bright here, the times are right, it's all okay, that's for sure. The clouds are high and puffy, the sun a bright white circle, the radio is loud and everything is perfect.
For some more traditional reviews, you may want to check out the
unofficial Kingdom of Rust blog run by my friend Nicky. He's rounding up TONS of reviews of the album, as well as sharing rare bits of Doves goodies.
Labels: Album, best of 09, doves, vignettes
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Sorry I haven't been posting at all lately. To be perfectly honest, the past two weeks I've had a lot on mind. I recently become a victim of the recession. My job at The Cube Farm is finally over, so I've been forced to go on the job hunt. Tomorrow is my last day working for Manley Deas Kochalski, and hopefully I'll have something lined up to start very soon.
