THE LAST BROADCAST

Doves
(Heavenly/ EMI)

RATING: four

Doves all but saved Britpop in 2000, renewing my faith in the music after Blur started to lie low and Oasis started to suck. Along with Coldplay’s Parachutes, their debut album Lost Souls was perhaps the most astonishing release to come out of the UK at the turn of the millennium. Doves continue their crusade to revitalize the face of Britpop with the excellent The Last Broadcast, a soundscape of electronica-infused guitar-based pop that is again destined to be among the year’s best imports.

Like its predecessor, much of the appeal of The Last Broadcast is cerebral—a contrast to Coldplay’s raw emotional appeal—but its intelligence doesn’t make it inaccessible. If anything, in fact, The Last Broadcast has a broader, easier appeal than Lost Souls. It’s definitely a more upbeat release, as Doves trade in the lush, dark instrumentals for happier melodies and a more positive demeanor.

But what is Doves music without darkness? Well, nothing. The trio—vocalist Jimi Goodwin and brothers Jez and Andy Williams—are from Manchester, after all, where a substantial amount of shoegazer music is born and bred. It’s not that The Last Broadcast doesn’t follow its predecessor in terms of ghostly gloom; it’s just that it hides it better. “Words” may open the album with a minute and a half of cascading guitars reminiscent of 80s new wave, but then the melodies take on a slight edge and Goodwin is ever-so-slightly sarcastic as he sings, “Words, they mean nothing/ So you can’t hurt me.” And somewhere along the way, the guitar riffs turn into little knives, and before you know it, you’ve got a proper song of retribution.

Then there’s the standout “M62 Song,” an acoustic adaptation of “Moonchild” by prog-rockers King Crimson. It’s supposed to be a rather faithful remake, though the reference to the original will be lost on newer audiences (myself included). Think instead of Nick Drake and Radiohead, or even the Beatles during some of their darker days. It’s the quietest track on the album, uncharacteristically spare, but it fits right in on the album’s overall mood.

The Last Broadcast is such a solid release, there’s hardly a bad moment on the entire album. It says well of Doves’s abilities that the highlights include two tracks on both ends of the stylistic spectrum: the fizzy, summery first single “There Goes the Fear,” and the unsubtle and complicated “N.Y.” The appeal of “There Goes the Fear” is simple, relying on the track’s head-lollingly uplifting refrain. The lyrics are actually pretty sad (“You turn around and life’s passed you by”), but they’re so neatly camouflaged by the upbeat melodies, you’re already singing along before you know what it’s about.

“N.Y.,” on the other hand, makes no bones about its contradictions. It opens with crashing guitars, drums, and effects like any in-your-face rock track, but seconds later it pulls back to reveal only a bare acoustic guitar and piano. The interplay between the simple and the lush—something Doves does very, very well—makes the track feel like a sonic journey through changing soundscapes. It’s a massive track, an engaging six-minute epic that asks no less than your full attention.

There’s already a wellspring of early hype pushing The Last Broadcast, and in this case at least, it’s hard to dispute the superlatives being heaped upon this first-rate release. Brilliant, moving, and utterly stunning, this album is one of the most satisfying releases to come out of the UK in a long while. —Kristine Fonacier