CD: Fate Artist: Dr. Dog Label: Park The Van Records Rating: 3/5 Best Song: The Breeze Reviewer: Cole Faulkner

Dr. Dog’s 2008 album, Fate, is an exercise in calculated nostalgia.  Based on anything from their back catalogue, it’s clear that the band doesn’t want to exist in the present, instead retreating fervently to the dusty “old days” of yonder.  In Fate, that means never looking beyond the 1960’s, but really, approaching most of their material through a lens dating back even further.

It’s as if the band exists in the 60’s, but finds the “the good old days” in the age of old tymey pianos, leather-bound books, and meticulously groomed mustaches.  The album opens with the nostalgia-based song “The Breeze” with co-vocalist Toby Leaman solemnly questioning “are you moving much to fast/the good times that just don’t last… do you feel like you’re stuck in time/forever waiting on that line/if nothing ever moves/then put that needle to the groove/and sing.”  As the chorus picks up, a lamenting choir of somber “oooohs” slides on in, feeling like something of a depressed Beach Boys number.  But it’s the older moments that feel peppy, especially the cheerful intermittence of the aforementioned player piano. 

However, these merry moments come and go like distant memories.  The past isn’t being celebrated – rather, mourned.  Considering that all the excitement stems from the oldest of influences – those dating back to speak easies and saloons – their dismissal of the present is actually rather depressing.  And their messages don’t make journey any easier.  Tracks like “From” back an already grief struck tone with passages like “oh oh my love/don’t you leave me/cause I don’t want to die.”  Imagine if artists from the 60’s had never learned to confidently rebel against life’s many hardships, instead curling up and weeping in the corner.  Even the jazzy brass sections in “Hang On” feel sluggish and tired.  A contemporary comparison can probably be found in Connor Oberst, but even the Bright Eyes frontman’s darkest hours sound more alive than this.

But personal slant aside, Fate is a foundationally sound folk pop romp from the annals of the 20th century.  While a careful listening made me incredibly depressed for the rest of the day (as my fiancé can attest to), those willing to put up with some gloomy subject matter for a tour of the past should find themselves quite satisfied.  Even so, and thanks to the benefit of hindsight, it’s hard to recommend Fate over the band’s more recent offering, Shame Shame.  For as solid as Fate is – and in contrast to the band’s obsession with the past – Fate gives listeners a reason to look forward, rather than back, in Dr. Dog’s discography.