When attending last year’s Pavement-curated ATP, I was expecting to revel in the distorted feedback and incoherent mumblings of sludgy noisy slacker rock. However, there was one band who took to the stage mid-afternoon on Sunday that really surprised me, and proved to be one of the highlights of my weekend. The band in question was The Dodos.
The disjointed cadences and unsettling rhythms were a titillating joy, ad they exuded gusto and meticulous execution. Much of the material was unfamiliar to me and has no doubt ended up on this record. Their debut album ‘The Visitor’, solely as a two-piece, was a humble and fragile affair, lamenting more the extension of the singer/songwriter foundations from which the project originated. ‘No Colour’ sees them slip more into full band territory, and they flourish within those grounds; the drums are relentless and the guitar strings a never ending vibration. It’s barely given a second to stop or breath, but it’s all the better for it, never feeling rushed or pushed but alive with energy. It combines explosive moments with more restrained elements, at times almost feeling like an acoustic Animal Collective. The magnetism and ferocity of the performance I witnessed last year has been captured with conviction on the record, and its more sombre, gentler moments still bubble with energy underneath.
Ultimately it feels like an album where forward momentum is the key. It’s as though we start running and rarely stop until the record ends and we keel over in an exhausted heap. While there are undeniably songs that soar higher than others, it doesn’t necessarily struggle or feel incomplete as a result - just a momentary stitch in the gut whilst trying to keep up with the record. The band have clearly solidified a unique and vigorous quality to their sound which makes this album a gratifying experience, taking you a step closer to the intensity and manic energy of their live shows.