Doves - The Last Broadcast

In 1991 it happened to Nirvana. Nevermind transfixed the lingering bad dream of ‘80s spandex slathered hair metal, fractured pop culture in two and has since certified walls of platinum records. Again, in 1997, rock was reupholstered by five Oxford boys who had an illusory vision and a quixotic dream. They named it OK Computer; yet most of us called it magic. Although each band has carved a very dissimilar musical niche into the hearts of the rock camaraderie, they both share the impeccable reputation as being the musical archetype in their respective native lands for many subsequent years that followed their albums of the highest tier. Doves, with their debut disc of Lost Souls, were an exemplar that tucked beneath the warm bed of rock perfunctory that Radiohead had first stitched and tailored. Just as the title to the aforementioned album indicates, it was an enveloping rock endeavor that was sealed and stamped with deep, impassioned melancholy. As if deliberately leading critics and fans awry, The Last Broadcast perplexes the rock canvas with a sea of sonic landscaping that stretches as far as the ear can hear and celestial harmonies that evaporate from the speakers and solidify in your mind. With their new episodic template, Doves flow through the chasms of your mind rather than simulate their UK predecessor in a game of follow the leader musical mimicry. Their kick-starter, “Words,” drives with vortexes of sheering guitar handiwork that roves like a tidal wave awash a starlit sky. The tinkling bells seem to roar, the vocals drift aimlessly into the night and the drums tremble beneath the shuffling sonic feet. If this were the new facade of the Doves I would be ever so ecstatic. But this isn’t the new polychromatic facelift of the Doves – yet I am still spinning The Last Broadcast ‘round and ‘round, again and again. The truth is, Doves morph and shape shift from song to song – strumming sunny and pruned pop melodics on “There Goes the Fear” one minute while “N.Y.” flaps in the wind with wings of protruding rock charisma and ambient, uplifting swirls that don’t only fill time, but passages of space as well. With The Last Broadcast we witness a band that once concealed its true self in a cocoon of bashfulness now in the formative stages of emerging like the fluttering butterfly that we all knew it could metamorphose into. Doves, with a montage of beautifully orchestrated rock, weave the networks of your mind in a foreign, yet warm fashion to leave you teary eyed, breathless and, as always, yearning for more. Unlike its precursor in the Doves discography, The Last Broadcast stands on a pedestal proudly its own – boasting a main course of beauty with a miniscule side dish of foregoing musical footnotes. [www.doves.net]