Dr. Dog Easybeat by: Al Cottrill Fri:02-Feb-07 Label: Rough Trade Year: 2006 WB rating 73 out of 100

Five nicknamed Philadelphia locals: Taxi, Tables, Text, Trouble and Thanks make up Dr. Dog; an interesting band doing interesting things, mostly involving old records, breezy melodies and a few too many beers.  The band list their interests as three-part harmonies and diminished chords, which gives some indication of what can be expected from Easy Beat, but such a description neglects to mention the sunny melodies, jangling rock and all-round vocal weirdness within. A fuzzy bliss seems to hang over the album: a warm and hazy result of its lo-fi recording/production and languid delivery. Referencing 1960s psychedelic rock and full of familiar sounds, it belongs to another era – a tricky result to achieve without sounding like a novelty album. Dr. Dog reaches such heights with an effortlessness that pervades Easy Beat, allowing them to avoid parody or imitation and fashion a release that stands out against current faddish rock.

Opener ‘World May Never Know’ is one of the strongest tracks; its wandering bass, melodic piano and muffled vocals elicit a warm, drunken mood.  It feels good and it knows it, throwing around backing vocals, lithe piano lines and drum rolls without a care. Dr. Dog are enjoying themselves, and lines like: “I can’t remember what is wrong/I’ve been happy now for far too long” contrast the regret-tinged, bass-less vocals to perfection.

Following on is ‘The Pretender’: a slower, woozier romp with the distinct scent of heartbreak, but full of hooks and a flowing bass line that won’t leave you alone.  It is slightly weaker than the tracks between which it is sandwiched and lacks the same depth. However, the vocal crescendos and guitarist Taxi’s pedal usage add colour to save ‘The Pretender’ from mediocrity.

Dr. Dog has come under criticism for the influences obviously identifiable in their music, lazily referred to as derivative by some reviewers. While the album does have moments lacking originality, most perceived similarities are contained in instrumental flourishes: a bass line here (‘World May Never Know’), a backing vocal there (‘The Pretender’) and a love of the music of yesteryear. Influences are worn proudly on their sleeve, forming only superficial touches that make songs familiar and well-worn, rather than a result of any true derivation. Dr. Dog know where their roots lie, they even mention that those wishing to consider Easy Beat as a vinyl record (with a Side A/Side B) should “pause after ‘Dutchman Falls’, and after a length resume listening with ‘Fool’s Life’”.  

Taking this latitudinally large and obviously diverse set of influences, Dr. Dog manages to sound like every one of them at once. For example, ‘Oh No’ with its skipping-record, Fleetwood Mac intro, flows into a Lennon/McCartney double act. From here Brian Wilson joins the show, before they continue on again towards any 60s pop band you care to mention; it’s schizophrenic at best, but it works. 

And then there’s the record’s black sheep, ‘Fool’s Life’, with its acid freak-out keyboard sounding like some The Doors’ ‘Break On Through’ discard. Referencing everyone, their sound belongs to an era, but never to a single band. 

While the album is full of ‘easy beats’ the title track is rolling and relaxed enough to warrant its namesake status. The song contains a beautiful tune and a chorus that climbs out and above its matte surrounds. Opening with a buzzing guitar intro, sleigh bell accompaniment and curious couplet: “It’s an easy beat of nothing/and we don’t need no guitars”, it’s an obviously self-referencing double-negative; which is also reminiscent of The Monkees in its pronoun usage. During ‘Easy Beat’ the true psychedelia comes to the fore with its summer-of-love suggestions: “Well, there are many things that I would love to turn you on to/Underneath the sun, but we are cool”. It couldn’t be a bona fide psychedelic track without a tripping instrumental and some whispered commands, but Dr. Dog pull it all off, as if they really were there.

While pleasant three-part harmonies make regular appearances through the album, so do certain vociferous cries and reaching vocals.  It’s these strained vocals that give ‘Easy Beat’ much of its independence, and although Tables’ vocal range is restricted to the octave or so of the common folk, it doesn’t stop him hoping for much more. These overwrought notes, along with the lo-fi production, give this album an amateur-hour feel, which is a breath of fresh air when held against the reflective sheen and production polish of other so-called ‘indie’ productions.

Mostly this home-grown produce is used to fantastic effect. It’s like dipping your head in a bucket of ice water. It feels reassuringly good hearing Tables strangling vocals in ‘Dutchman Falls’, his voice breaking all over the place; clearly out of range and not giving a fuck. And when it’s capped by such a wonderfully careless, stomping and swaggering progression, you can’t help but smile.

Upon first listen Easy Beat may not grab you by the throat and shake you like some backstreet hustler looking for easy money.  It is not a record for these times, ignoring our lust for instant gratification and disposable pop. Instead, Easy Beat rewards patience and those who are willing to allow more than one listen for a record to crawl into their head. When you subject most albums to this treatment their flaws only appear clearer, slowly teased out of otherwise acceptable songs. Compositions that once sounded quirky, catchy or interesting fall flat: bland and abrasive in the cold light of repetition.  But Dr. Dog have taken a different approach.  Here their flaws are clear; no attempt is made to hide them – there is no shame. You soon know when a voice is going to break, when a harmony won’t quite get there, and when things are getting weird. But it only endears them further. Once this album gets in your head, it’s going to stay there.