
Photo NOT from last night
Dr. Dog live @ Doug Fir, 9/24/08
Prior to last night I had no direct experience with Philadelphia's Dr. Dog. I'd read and heard about them, but never really listened to their music. The rumors were good though--that the group sounded like the Beatles and liked to jam. OK, well let's give it a go then. No better time than a sold out show.
Lord was I disappointed.
Dr. Dog's repetative nonsense reminded me of something Jason Pierce (Spiritualized) said in a recent interview regarding his quest for purity and truth in music:
"You could get ten people to play exactly the same then notes and nine of them might mean nothing and the rest might lift you mentally. It's not about the notes you play, it's not about the songs. It's where things hang between those notes."
And throughout Dr. Dog, I couldn't find a damn thing between the notes.
The five of them (two guitars, bass, keys and drums) just sort of stomped around without aplomb. One plodding mid-tempo saccharine pop song after another. Lifeless jams without a focal point or meaningful movement. Jams as rehearsed.
Living in mid-tempo, as Dr. Dog most certainly did, is like driving a car locked in 2nd gear--unless you've got a Ferrari (read: extraordinary gifts of composition, melody and/or talent), it's a grating bore.
In Dog I heard nothing remotely resembling the Beatles (who had the gifts enough to own mid-tempo, though they chose not to). A friend who had seen the band "since they played for four people" told me Dog's earlier records followed the Liverpudlian bent, but the influence had been trailing off as of late.
What I saw was a bunch of ex-hippie jam band wankers who thought fedoras and sunglasses would make people think they had some edge. They don't. Which isn't to say that Dr. Dog have completely disavowed their hippy roots--there was plenty of work-a-day stoners in the crowd doing the twisty arms Woodstock Wiggle.
"These guys would kill it at Bonnaroo," I said to my friend. "They do," he shot back. I think they'd do alright at the Oregon Country Fair to boot... (or is that, "to Birkenstock")
But hey, the crowd ate it up, all they way down to the white man's burden, gravelly voiced, over inflicted, bass player's drudge (to his credit, the guitarist's vocals were much more pleasant, and at times catchy).
Overall though, I just don't see it. Dr. Dog is rock at it's most re-tread and bland.
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