“Hello, old friend
It’s been a while
It’s me again
We’re just prisoners of these times
But it won’t be for long”
For all the horribleness and traumatic change 2020 handed to us throughout its entirety, there was still some good to come out of it. And I’d have to say that somewhere near the top of the list of positives has to be the release of new material by Doves, one of my favourite ever bands.
The Manchester-based trio had just completed a successful run of live dates in the summer of 2019 after eight long years on hiatus. Things were going so well that they pooled together material that frontman Jimi Goodwin had been working on* with the Williams brothers’ as yet unreleased work as Black Rivers, along with some ideas that were leftover from their last album together as a band**, and then, tied it all up with a magical bow. “The universal want” was released in the fall, just in time for yours truly’s birthday, but not before justifiably teasing us all with a couple of excellent advanced singles, one of which is the focus of today’s post.
“Prisoners” and its lyrics may sound like it fits in perfectly with everything that was going on at the time but Goodwin and his bandmates have vehemently denied any connection with the song to the COVID-19 pandemic and the lockdowns that were happening all around the world attempting to temper the virus’s spread. They haven’t said if it was one of the songs that had been written beforehand but as they tell it, it follows the same conversation the band has always been having with itself in their songs. “Just over the horizon, there’s always something better. Sometimes we get trapped by our own behaviour. You can be a prisoner of your own thoughts. They can take you to some pretty dark and unexpected places if you let them. It’s a song about checking yourself.”
This song (and the rest of Doves’ newest album) has the group picking up practically where they left off. It’s beautiful and atmospheric and set apart in its own world. It all begins with a light strumming on the guitar and a sprinkling of sunlight and wisps of haze and then that driving drum beat kicks in and the bopping bassline falls in step not far behind. There’s plenty alien and new, but it’s not strange at all. It’s familiar and comforting and fluid and when the guitar starts a-wailing amidst all the glow, you just have to soak it all in, bask in the glory of it all.***
*Which, of course, was supposed to be his sophomore release, the follow up to 2014’s “Odludek”.
**The absolutely incredible “Kingdom of rust”, which was released in 2008.
***These last few sentences are some self-plagiarizing from a post I wrote back in 2020 praising “The universal want” as my favourite album of the year.
For the rest of the Best tunes of 2020 list, click here.
A hearty welcome this morning as we delve ever deeper towards my favourite album of 2010, with this my number four album, “Clinging to a scheme” by The Radio Dept. To those religious sorts out there, pardon the blasphemy of this statement but… Holy god! This album blew my mind on first listen (which really should tell you lots about albums three through one on this list).
At the time, I had not heard one iota about The Radio Dept. and now thirteen years later, I couldn’t even tell you how they ever crossed my radar. I do remember, however, that after realizing that “Clinging to a scheme” was the Swedish indie rock band’s third album, I immediately dove into their back catalogue to see from whence this glorious sound developed. There were only these two other full-length albums to speak of, their releases spread liberally from 2003 to 2010, as if they only really recorded when the mood took them. A foreign concept, for sure, but one that seems to work for them, since 2003’s “Lesser matters” and 2006’s “Pet grief” are both really solid records.
The idea of the band and its name had roots in music made by friends Elin Almered and Johan Duncanson in Lund, Sweden, way back in 1995. This partnership was short-lived, however, and when Duncanson continued making music with others three years later, he did so using the same moniker. Nowadays, the lineup seems focused around the core of Duncanson, Martin Larsson, and Daniel Tjäder. And I say ‘nowadays’ but really, they’ve continued the trend of sporadic releases: a 2011 compilation album called “Passive aggressive”, a full-length in 2016 titled “Running out of love” and a handful of EPs and singles peppered in between.
But let’s get back to “Clinging to a scheme”, shall we?
As I already mentioned above, this particular music fan’s mind was blown on the first listen to said album. All of its elements – the droning, reverb-laden guitar work, the slacker vocals, the Madchester rhythms, the seemingly random samples – all called to mind the music I listened to in the early 90s but were updated enough in all to sound fresh. In its ten tracks, I heard a bit of Ride, some Chapterhouse (very early Chapterhouse), and yes, The Stone Roses. So of course, I would find the music appealing. But there’s something more here. Perhaps it’s an innocence or maybe just an apathy towards everything outside the musicians’ collective spheres. When listening to it, especially on earphones, the music becomes like a force field against all the evils of the outside world. It is beautifully dreamy, like a massage for the soul or a metaphysical drug on par with soma.
Speaking of drugs, have you had a look at the album’s cover? What exactly is that young fella doing? I don’t know if the band condones drug use or if this is a statement of some sort or perhaps I’m reading it all wrong and it’s simply tobacco. Either way, I could see the psychedelic nature of the music lending itself to further enjoyment with the use of recreational drugs… if you were into the type if thing. And if not, do like I do: turn it up loud, close your eyes, let the rhythm rip through you, and just float lazily on its airy melodies.
To start you on your journey, here’s my three picks for you, just a sample of the 10 great tracks from the album:
“Never follow suit”: Like most of the songs on “Clinging to a scheme”, the beat is danceable but on track four, it’s also slow and meandering. There’s a hint of reggae or dub in its aesthetic, digitized spasms mimicking steel drum explosions, and the keyboard riffs add to this feeling of aimless wandering, like it’s the journey and not the destination, and never caring if you get lost. In the middle of the track, we get an interlude, a sampling from a mid-80s documentary, an esoteric easter egg that I might never have hunted down if it didn’t tickle my brain so.
“Heaven’s on fire”: This one starts with a sample of a Thurston Moore ramble on youth culture and big business, making you think it might get social or political (or socio-political), and then, that beat kicks in and pretty much all of that is forgotten… You could read into the lyrics that Johan Duncanson is expressing his distaste for big music and couching it in a sweet sounding indie pop song that courts mainstream in an offhand way. “We’re outnumbered by those who take no pride in constantly moving against the tide.” But it could just as easily be about a strong dislike for some other person and a kiss off on the way to the dance floor. Either way, I makes me happy whenever I listen to it.
“This time around”: And just listen to this track! Do I really need to explain why it is so great? When I counted down my favourite tunes of 2010, it came in at number four, not a bad result at all for a song that it wasn’t even released as a single. In that post, I waxed poetically about The Charlatans because it felt to me that “This time around” sounded pulled out of the same gene pool as the rest of the great tracks on “Some friendly”. But it’s also Chapterhouse exuberance set against a drum beat that might make Reni of The Stone Roses blush. Whenever I listen to it, I feel like I want to explode into a frantic dance à la Keith Flint or Bez. But enough of the name drops. Let’s go let go!
Stay tuned for album #3. In the meantime, here are the previous albums in this list:
Echo and the Bunnymen originally formed as the trio of Ian McCulloch, Will Sargent, and Les Pattinson in Liverpool in 1978. Drummer Pete de Freitas would eventually replace the band’s drum machine as the fourth member in 1980. It was this lineup that recorded and released the band’s first five and best-loved albums: “Crocodiles” (1980), “Heaven up here” (1981), “Porcupine” (1983), “Ocean rain” (1984), and “Echo and the Bunnymen” (1987). After McCulloch left to pursue a solo career in 1988 and de Freitas died a year later, the remaining two members carried on with new recruits and released a mostly forgettable album in 1990 before dissolving a few years later. The name and band was revived in 1997 after McCulloch and Sargent successfully worked together again as Electrafixion on one album and then, Pattinson returned to work with them.
I original got into the group with a cover. I was super haunted by their version of The Doors’ “People are strange”* that appeared on the “Lost boys” soundtrack, a film that I watched despite my parents warnings as a teen and then, watched and rewatched many times over. I came upon this very song, “Lips like sugar”, on an 80s compilation, a bunch of years later, and from there, it was an easy hop, skip, and jump to the rest of their singles.
“Lips like sugar” was originally released as the second single off Echo & the Bunnymen’s 1987, eponymously-named fifth record, the group’s most commercially successful album in North America. In fact, frontman Ian McCulloch initially disliked the song because he thought it sounded too commercial. His view towards it has softened considerably over the years, likely because he was right. Money does have a way of changing views towards the positive.
Regardless of its commercial activity, it’s a great song. Evoking fantastical imagery and that magical feeling of early love and longing, in that time when the object of your affection is near perfection. Pounding drums echoing that of a racing heartbeat, guitars jangle and ring and chirp and roll off into the distance, and all the while, McCulloch wavers between croons and howls, all bouncing and reverberating off of prison walls of his own making. This definitely wasn’t what mainstream sounded like back then, but it certainly paved the way for what was to come.
Original Eighties best 100 position: n/a
Favourite lyric: “She floats like a swan / grace on the water” It’s a great image and it so completely sets the tone and gives you a clear image of who McCulloch is pining over.
Where are they now?: Echo and the Bunnymen is still very much a going concern, though these days the only remaining original members are Ian McCulloch and Will Sargent. They last released an album of new material in 2014 (“Meteorites”) and back in 2018, released an album called “The stars, the oceans, and the moon”, which was mostly reworked versions of earlier tunes.
*This very cover of The Doors’ classic appeared at number sixty-eight on my ongoing list of 100 favourite cover songs.
For the rest of the Eighties’ best 100 redux list, click here.
My (life in) music lists 