Spectreview: Dogbreth – Ever Loving

-LIGHT CORAL-

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“Snap back, here I am
Wet streets, coffee hands
Learning to layer clothes
As someone no one knows”

Tristan Jemsek (of Phoenix, AR) found a second home in Seattle just as Dogbreth’s 2016 album, Second Home, further expanded the band’s audience beyond his hometown’s DIY scene. Since then, he’s built the band from the ground up with PNW musicians, finding a tight support system amid the city’s underground punks in the process. He’s opened for blooming punk icon Jeff Rosenstock and stood alongside legendary drone-rock pioneers Earth on their most recent tour: small milestones that would nonetheless bring pride to any budding underground rocker. The dry heat of the Sunshine State is proving to be irresistible, but as a mark of his time in Seattle, he’s set to release Ever Loving, the band’s most ornate, openly ambitious record yet. Boasting tighter songwriting, sharper hooks, and beefier sonics than anything the band’s done yet, it’s unquestionably a step up for the act.

There’s an obvious blueprint in Big Star’s winsome jangle (check out how accurately the thick chords of “Like a Gift” capture Alex Chilton’s signature melodicism) along with a harder edge that comes from several of that band’s well-documented disciples: The Replacements’ off-the-cuff looseness, Teenage Fanclub’s harmonious about-face, and Prefab Sprout’s sideways pop inclinations, among others. The domineering sound is still punk, but it’s a notably warm version of punk -now warmer than ever- with an evident roughness that shows the band isn’t aiming for perfection. The production is overall gorgeous, and besides some questionable mixing decisions surrounding the horns, the whole stereo space feels filled in, and Jemsek’s hooks have never leapt off the speakers quite like this. Touches of found sound and SFX solidify the band’s ambition, helping the album cohere into a single piece that runs smoothly from front to back. 

It also may be the record that finds Jemsek most effectively relinquishing control, as every member of the new line-up shines brightly. Greg Hughes’ bass playing is accomplished and lithe, while Malia Seavey’s drumming keeps the overall feel of each song on the lighter side. Of them all though, songwriter Bil Palmer perhaps shines the brightest, with the songs bearing his lead vocals among the album’s best moments. First single “When U Call My Name” blasting out of the gate with a stellar propulsive vocal take and a wave-riding guitar lead, while the unstoppable surge of “Payless” hits a glorious triple-harmony stride that’s offset by some goofily-dissonant guitar playing on the refrain. Jemsek himself is in strong form here, laying down some of his strongest vocal performances and cutting across the screen on tracks like the blistering “Hindsight” and the classically autumnal “Like Pretend.” Like many artists with unconventional vocal capabilities, he understands where his strengths lie and leans into heartfelt deliveries, struggling to control himself on the anthemic “Two Plastic Spools” and switching modes inside verses on “Heat Island.”

Jemsek’s described himself as a dedicated lyric writer, and if there’s any point in the music creation process where he feels the most pressure to practice perfection, it’s on the page. Not too much has changed from Second Home in that department; he’s still got a knack for whip-smart structures, moving metaphors and working-class specificities.  While the music is generally upbeat, the words are classic indie, with a peculiar overcast that hangs over even its most effusive moments.  It’s only when the record finally slows down on Palmer-led lighter-lifter “Me Changing” and trudging closer “Through the Walls,”  that the dark-circled eyes really begin to show. “Through the Walls” in particular finds Jemsek at his most affective; it’s one long heavy sigh, the sound of a man caught in a web of regret and self-loathing that feels inextricable, and it’s a far cry from the relatively carefree spirit coursing through the past forty minutes. The record might end on this dour unresolved note, but it feels true to life: even in the practice of gratitude, there’s no eliminating that latent sadness simmering underneath.

Complex and unflagging, Ever Loving represents a high point in Dogbreth’s discography and should stand alongside recent works like The Sidekicks’ Happiness Hours and The Beths’ Future Me Hates Me in terms of pure power-punk pleasure.

Recommended for VHS copies of The Adventures of Pete and Pete.