“Spellbound” perfectly melds The Bends-era Radiohead and the soaring atmospherics of Coldplay. An acoustic guitar in the background provides necessary grounding for the song to march along.
“House of Mirrors” combats its own polish with driving drum beats and heavily distorted guitars to become one of the few unabashed anthems of the album.
Doves fourth studio album sees the Mancunian band expand on their full, lush and abounding indie rock sound with flourishes of electronica, funk, country and some imposing production. Opener Jetstream’s pulsating undercurrents are just the first sign that Doves haven’t entirely abandoned the dance roots of their Sub Sub beginnings, while the sleazy funk and retro vibe of Compulsion demonstrate a new, less urgent side.
Despite these embellishments, Kingdom of Rust is still very much an alt-rock album. That’s made clear by the continued dominance of the guitar work, clear and cleanly plucked, as on Spellbound, or gritty and grimy, as on House of Mirrors. Combine this with the reverb drenched vocals and off beat rhythms, and Doves have the power to be quite engrossing.
There’s an air of dejection throughout Kingdom of Rust which can be overwhelming, both in the good and the bad sense. The glum atmosphere can become trying at times (Birds Flew Backwards), but it also makes tracks like The Outsiders and 10.03, which builds upon the wretched and miserable until it transforms into a rip-roaring rhythm-led guitar sequence. Kingdom of Rust’s main downfall is the plain sailing of tracks like Winter Hill and The Greatest Dernier – predictable, average and out of place on an otherwise strong and intense album.
Doves’ 4th album, ‘Kingdom of Rust,’ good but not good enough
The British trio Doves spent nearly two years crafting a follow-up to its stellar 2005 album, “Some Cities.” Sadly, “Kingdom of Rust” comes up short.
That’s not to say it isn’t good. It just doesn’t match the punchy vibe of “Some Cities” and, at times, may actually be a bit boring.
Jimi Goodwin, Jez Williams and Andy Williams, who first started playing together as teenagers in Cheshire, England, aimed to stretch their musical muscles on “Rust.” And on many tracks, they succeed. The album opener, “Jetstream,” is an electro-tinged, Kraftwerk-inspired song. “The Outsider” mixes classic rock rhythms with electronic sounds. And the album’s best track, its title song, is a rhythmic romp blending bright guitars with a galloping, cowboy-style bassline.
But other tracks simply fail to excite. With its fat, driving bass, “Compulsion” shows promise but ends up being an 1980s electropop throwback. Similarly, anthemic songs such as “Winter Hill” and “Greatest Denier” are good enough, but ultimately forgettable. The love song “Spellbound” and the ethereal “Birds Flew Backwards” are musically lovely, but don’t cry out for a repeat play.
Where “Some Cities” beckoned the ears with each track, “Rust” fades into the background. Too bad the albums weren’t released in reverse.
Check out this track: Arranged by Tom Rowlands of the Chemical Brothers, “10:03” starts slow and builds into a layered, bass-heavy rocker with driving rhythms.
For their fourth record in nine years, Doves deliver gorgeous, sonically adventurous tunes dappled with strings, droning guitars, Radiohead-ish atmospherics and singer Jimi Goodwin’s longing tales of lonely train rides and missing the sunshine. Kingdom of Rust is wonderfully dolorous, but when Doves rev up the tempos on tracks like “The Outsiders,” they show they’re not a total pity party. Their good cheer isn’t always convincing: “Compulsion” sounds like a bad cover of Blondie’s “Rapture.” But they get bonus points for re-creating the keyboard sound from Steve Miller’s “Fly Like an Eagle” on “Jetstream.”
It has been four years since Doves released an album and while they’ve been away, fellow Mancs Elbow have muscled in on their brand of uplifting melancholy.
But Kingdom Of Rust recaptures and significantly extends the band’s gameplan.
The gloomy but heartfelt title track establishes the record’s mood and musical edge, while the songs that surround it confirm that Doves have not been lying idly by or resting on their laurels.
The bristling and urgent 10:03 strengthens their grip on widescreen rock with a train ride into the murky recesses of the soul, while Birds Flew Backwards unfurls its forlorn, string-laden sorrow with style and substance to spare.
There’s clamour and spooky sound effects woven into the furious hard rock of House Of Mirrors.
Psychedelia from the dark side of town, it’s a song where doubt and dissolving identity are common bedfellows.
Kingdom Of Rust maps out foreboding and fearsome territory, but even in the album’s most punishing moments (Lifelines) the trio find a way to fly free.
While the consistent Some Cities cruised along comfortably, Kingdom of Rust is a bumpier ride, as we hear Doves playing to their strengths one minute, and giving in to their schmaltzy instincts the next. However, for a good half hour we’re hearing what sounds like a rejuvenated band, the three musicians up to their old eclectic mischief, sounding as ambitious as ever. “Jetstream” is inspired, the band’s dance element returning with a vengeance, thrumming synths, pounding kick drum, and flange-enhanced hi-hat beats backing Jez’s coy, detached vocals, and the furious “The Outsiders” rocks harder than the threesome ever has before, the song’s churning, swaggering hard rock at times evoking Swervedriver’s “Last Train to Satansville”. With its wistful mellotron loops, ambient touches, and the simple phrasing by smooth-voiced Goodwin, “Winter Hill” captures a pastoral feeling far better than the last album, while the shifts from rich layers of trilling melodies to the abrupt, tense bassline of the chorus on “The Greatest Denier” is an inspired touch.
Doves must be getting sick of the comparison by now but it’s hard not to wonder if the recent success enjoyed by Elbow could also happen to them.
After all, they’re both scruffy but charming gangs from the North-west who write impassioned, anthemic songs deeply connected to the region and who have been plodding along reliably in the background throughout the last decade.
So is Kingdom Of Rust their Seldom Seen Kid? In some ways, it could be.
What has always made Doves so appealing –the rhythmic undercurrents that betrayed their early days as dance act Sub Sub, the multi-textured songs which slowly reveal themselves –is confidently displayed here on songs such as the searing opener Jetstream or the dizzying Winter Hill.
There are also successful moves outside the band’s comfort zone, such as the throbbing, motorik rhythm that powers The Outsiders or the title track, a shuffling, achingly sad song which paints Lancashire as the dusty setting for a spaghetti western.
However, Kingdom Of Rust doesn’t maintain this early quality, flagging in the centre and exposing the craggier edges of singer Jimi Goodwin’s vocals.
With a cluster of formulaic tracks forming the album’s core, only the surprisingly funky Compulsion and the more forceful House Of Mirrors lift the record again towards its close.
A complex, multi-faceted record, Kingdom Of Rust will certainly appeal to Doves’ existing fans but it lacks the sheer force of personality needed to make everyone else sit up and take note again.
Doves’ epic indie rock mightn’t fall under what we class as “urban” and “industrial” music, but there’s arguably no-one more suited to that description. Their sound conjures up huge rain-lashed cooling towers, crumbling apartment blocks huddled under cumulonimbus-clogged skies, weed-cracked concrete and traffic-clogged sliproads. In these imposing landscapes stand the glum-faced Doves, the beating human heart of these soulless spaces.
Highlights are the Morricone-flavoured title track with its unexpected, uplifting Mike Oldfield-esque melody, the atmospheric Jetstream with its driving Kraftwerkian beats and spacy electronic flourishes, the waking dream of 10:03, and the rousing Compulsion, which mixes a funky bassline with vast sweeps of atmospheric guitar to great effect.
As ever, there’s something highly satisfying and strangely comforting about their sullen pomp, guaranteed to put some drama into a dreary drive over the M62.
‘Jetstream’ is de knaller die ‘Kingdom of rust’ opent. De groep beweert zelf dat het nummer gestoeld is op hun voorliefde voor Vangelis (!). Wij horen enkel de binnenrollende drums zoals wij dat enkel Larry Mullen jr hebben weten doen, in goede doen. De groep boet hier misschien wat in aan melodie, maar pompt zo de wilskracht naar het voorste plan. Ook verder in het album zijn het de drums en de baslijnen die voor de hoogste noot zorgen. Nummers als ‘The outsiders’ en ‘The great denier’ zorgen voor een dynamisch tempo.
‘Jetstream’ is a powerful, Blade Runner inspired number –taking some twists on the Vangelis futuristic synth/rock sound created for the film and crafting a song cloaked in dark streets, neon signs and ‘silent jets at night’. This seamlessly takes us into the single, and title track, ‘Kingdom Of Rust’. Moving things from a future vision to a hybrid of Sergio Leone westerns and a road trip through the cold north. Accompanied by a most touching and captivating promo video, the sense is that Doves have embraced the cinematic and are attempting to be as widescreen as they can.
A telling moment arrives in “House of Mirrors,” in which vocalist Jimi Goodwin sings of ghostly alleyways and bewildering echoes. The song is an appropriate summary of the entire album’s predicament, for despite the steady hand of producer John Leckie (Radiohead’s The Bends), Rust gets lost in one too many back alleys and side paths, all of which the Doves are too happy to explore.
It’s not necessarily dramatic enough to call it a “return to form,” since Doves are about as consistently pleasing a band as one is likely to find these days, but the fact that they have come back around to more of the lush soundscapes and, yes, occasional nods to their past, certainly works to the benefit of Kingdom of Rust, the band’s fourth studio album. If anything, Kingdom splits the difference between the stripped-back rock of 2005’s Some Cities and the grand, pristine epics of 2000’s classic mopey debut, Lost Souls, and 2002’s more positive and equally brilliant follow-up, The Last Broadcast.
Renowned Chemical Brothers programmer Tom Rowlands lends his recognisable arranging skills to ‘10.03’ a stunning, intimate four minutes, which sits comfortably amongst the more high-octane tracks the album has to offer.
Four years in the making, but worth the wait, Doves return by mixing their early melancholy with the cathartic dance-tinged rock of Last Broadcast.
You can hear the cabin fever in the longing claustrophobia of the haunting Greatest Denier and Winter Hill. But the celebration of Outsiders and Compulsion match Pounding for joy.
Veterans though they are, they’re still as hedonistic as music gets. 9/10
These Brits’ last record came out back in 2005, but the time off hasn’t inspired any tectonic changes. And that’s a blessing: On their fourth album, Doves consistently deliver outsize rock drama, with slight diversions into New Order–ish electro (“Jetstream”) and hints of garage psych (“House of Mirrors”). Mostly, though, it’s all about the melancholy rafter-reaching, like Coldplay on their darkest day. The title track chugs menacingly before swelling into a sunlit chorus, while “Winter Hill” wrings sweetness from breakup sadness. It’s familiar, sure, but Kingdom of Rust has a welcome warmth.
FOUR years is a long time to take a rest from the music business.
But it’s even longer if your plan is to shuffle back in with a track that almost apologetically asks you to lend it your ears.
It’s a classic Doves ruse, of course: the gently-gently rhythms, timid vocals begging for greater prominence in the mix and a goosebumpy piano sequence are actually all just bobbing around hiding the inevitable crescendo waiting in the wings.
True to form, Kingdom Of Rust finds occasion to throw a few bolder punches as its reaches for a more panoramic prospective with a flurry of strings –a melancholic downpour over the otherwise calm proceedings.
It’s a faithful return, then –perhaps encouraged by Elbow’s phenomenal success, they don’t tinker with the formula.
Which is just the news Doves fans were hoping for.
Thrillingly propelled by Jimi Goodwin’s turbine engine of a bass guitar, the three cool Cheshire cats float above the industrial grime of the English north-east sprinkling a little glamour on their customary grit. ‘House Of Mirrors’ dazzles with a driving beat decorated by spaghetti western instrumental flourishes, and a chorus that will lift the roof off arenas.
Doves – Kingdom Of Rust: To soften the blow of leaving us in the lurch for four years, Doves have done the decent thing and returned with an absolute stormer. We’ve heard the album, and this isn’t even the best song on it.
Doves –the band with added moisturiser –are looking to “do an Elbow” this year. In other words, a middle-ranking, fondly regarded but fundamentally unsexy band making an unexpected late-career leap into the big time.
But Jimi Goodwin is no Guy Garvey, vocally or lyrically, and if Kingdom of Rust –which alternates between freewheeling country rock and portentous indie prog –is the record that does it, that’s purely down to timing. (The Last Broadcast was a worthier candidate.)
Download this: ‘Compulsion’: OCD, as easy as 1-2-3
Four years on from their most recent album, Some Cities, the Manchester trio return. Everything you expect from a Doves record is here; and that, in a sense, is the problem. Of signs of development and advance, there are frustratingly few. The sonic subtlety that has always vied for supremacy with the band’s big-picture, prog-like tendencies is present and correct: sections of tracks such as Jetstream, 10.03 and Birds Flew Backwards contain huge open spaces in which tiny interjections make a mighty impact. Compulsion, meanwhile, nods to both Blondie’s Rapture and the band’s own dance roots. More typical of a strangely moribund album, however, are Winter Hill and The Greatest Denier, where their defaults of heavy sound blankets and rhythmic doggedness begin to seem not only oppressive, but dull.
Let’s be clear from the outset – this is a brilliant record. The best Doves record yet, binding the best elements of their past into a complete statement that insists upon something new and inspiring. ‘Kingdom of Rust’ mixes the bedsit misery that provided the palette for Doves debut with the spacy, anthemic feel of ‘The Last Broadcast’, and builds upon the maturity of ‘Some Cities’, finally signalling the culmination of Doves’ sound with crashing authority. Weaving in, out and through different genres and sonic templates with alarming expertise, Doves effortlessly absorb prog, folk, funk, rock, psychedelia and even hip hop into their armoury in way that cements the record as something special, and exposes other recent indie explorations, especially those involving a conspicuous-but-tenuous link to afrobeat and funk, as clear frauds.
To read the full review, click here. p.s… I think they like it!
Album closer ‘Lifeline’ is Doves’ finest achievement to date – heart-breaking, euphoric and humongous are just a few adjectives that spring to mind. “Somebody’s giving in, but I’m not,” howls Goodwin during the crescendo, managing to sound both forlorn and defiant in the same hearty growl.
WITH three equally impressive, idiosyncratic albums to their name already, the right fourth album could assure Doves’ rightful place as one of our most consistently exciting bands. Kingdom Of Rust explores a layered, adventurous terrain, with nods to Kraftwerk and funk in various places, thanks to Jimi Goodwin’s unique howl and a Sub Sub-esque groove. Opener Jetstream and the title track will be known to fans already, but it’s perhaps Winter Hill, 10.03, arranged by Chemical Brother Tom Rowlands and anthemic closer Lifelines that typify Kingdom Of Rust best, bustling with ambition.
For a band who concentrate their attentions so much on texture and atmosphere, Doves have a canny knack of delivering a killer pop song to kick-start an album’s campaign. As with previous singles There Goes The Fear and Black And White Town, Kingdom Of Rust sounds like nothing else at the moment; a soft-focus jangly gem seemingly plucked from a Morricone-scored Western. Radio loves the track, with BBC, Absolute and Xfm stations showing support. Meanwhile, the band are midway through an extensive campaign of airplay sessions and are attracting interest from Channel Four, E4, Sky and a wealth of national press.
Doves – Kingdom Of Rust *** It’s been four years since Doves had their biggest hit Black And White Town. Since then, fellow northern English sadsacks Elbow have achieved crossover success. Let’s hope this jaunty Chris Rea-sounding upbeat tune helps the trio.
Doves | ‘Kingdom of Rust’: Rust is the first release in four years from the British trio of brothers Andy and Jez Williams and Jimi Goodwin. The trio continued its work with producer Dan Austin. Sounds like: Coldplay, with more unexpected turns and bigger risks.
The punk-funk oddity “Compulsion,” a lovingly crafted early New Order tribute, is a delight, though, even if it feels like iTunes has unintentionally slipped into shuffle mode.
…the buzzing, strobing Jetstream, a dreamlike synth-pounder about “carbon seas, cast adrift on a trouble dream.” Yeah, I have NO idea. But it’s a sublime head-spinner for both humans and replicants, and it sucks you in like a vacuum, refusing to let go.
Doves: Kingdom of Rust. If there’s any such thing as an Elbow bounce, Guy Garvey’s fellow Mancunians have timed their fourth album smartly. Refraining from fixing what wasn’t broken, the best moments of their return evoke the magic hour industrial sunsets of their hometown, while detours into Morricone-inspired territory and the four-to-the-floor fireworks of House of Mirrors supply peaks to please those familiar with its predecessors.
The NME’s album review, which appeared in this week’s print edition, has today been posted online at their website. They give the album 8/10, stating that, “Only the overcooked, Blondie-referencing funk of ‘Compulsion’ really disappoints”…
‘The Outsiders’ is a trashy, loveable stomp featuring an ace distorted bassline and swathes of wah-wah, while ‘Winter Hill’ is the sort of anthemic rock song that U2 spend years and millions trying to write. And there’s as much chance of Bono singing about “grassy tracks” as there is of Doves singing about “sexy boots”.
Music critic, Andy Gill, has given Doves’ Kingdom Of Rust album a five star rating in his review within today’s edition of The Independent newspaper.
…it’s all carefully worked out, plotted and planned, but without once adopting the condescending assumptions common to the stadium acts whose position Doves will surely challenge. Album of the year? Quite possibly.
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