Oh for the wings of the Doves
I was going to link this Scotsman article at the the bottom of the Swindon review, but I think it deserves its own post. Its written by a fan of doves, talking about what doves have meant in him the past nine years. He saw them for the first time last weekend in Brixton. Enough of my rambling, go give it read. I’m sure many of you can relate.
Doves were one of those bands that kept me company through it all, constants in a world of change. Their music seemed somehow to chime exactly with every pattern of my life. I discovered them back in 2000 with the release of their astonishing debut album Lost Souls. (The joke was that Doves used to be called Sub Sub who were an unspectacular disco outfit who released a catchy pop song or two: worlds away from the anthemic, epic sound of Doves). Three albums later and their alchemy still works its magic. I had always wanted to see them perform live but was worried that the reality would ruin everything, that they would let me down. Because the one thing Doves have never done is let me down.
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