Whoa. Grunge? Hold up.
So there’s this band named The Dogbones. They claim to be grunge. In 2010.
Okay. Fine.
Being a lover of grunge, real grunge—oh, like, from the late 80s/early 90s, typically coming out of the American Northwest—this was an intriguing claim. That the band resides in London is also intriguing. But in creating grunge, specific conditions must be present for maximum cultivation.
So let’s check out the geographical similarities:
Major cities located in hilly coastal landscapes perfect for a harboring a sense of social alienation; lots of cloudy days for brooding upon angst-filled lyrics; excellent political/economic climate for spawning a reactionary sense of apathy.
Average yearly rainfall:
Seattle – 37 inches
London – 23 inches
Alright, so Seattle may have had more of an edge on London rain-wise, but there’s no reason to doubt that London is, theoretically speaking, perfectly capable of producing grunge. Taking into consideration London’s relative lack of rain (surely those who live there would laugh at this statement), it’s no wonder London grunge has a longer germination period.
And taking the above information into account, The Dogbones seem designed in the same form as older grunge acts. Looking, and sometimes sounding, a lot like Courtney Love after a few too many do-it-yourself hair dye experiments, lead singer Nomi fits the part exceedingly well. And she’s no stranger to such comparisons, either. In a previous interview, she stated, “If you’re a girl in a rock band, it’s inevitable that at some point you either get compared to Courtney Love, KatieJane Garside or PJ Harvey.” Indeed, though the first comparison sticks with a veracity that comes through in The Dogbones’ music as well as Nomi’s personal attire: ripped stockings, dirty button-up shirts, smeared lipstick. But however ferocious she tries to sound, Nomi will never top the brilliance of PJ Harvey’s Dry or Rid of Me. Ferocity does not equal sincerity.
Guitarist/backing vocalist Johnny Orion, who may or may not be Crispin Gray formerly of Daisy Chainsaw, looks equally smashing with his arrow-like nose, symmetrical bangs, gaunt features and Scott Weiland wardrobe. Despite his somewhat legitimate musical background, Orion/Gray lacks the chops his grunge contemporaries bestowed upon their audiences, writing bar-chord-heavy riffs that most of those guitarists would have thrown away in their early basement practice spaces, unfit for even a startup high school garage band. The Dogbones also feature two drummers, though this fact wouldn’t be evident merely from listening. One of the drummers is also a former member of the short lived Daisy Chainsaw, while the other goes by the very rock and roll name ‘Bambi.’ Bassist Mikalis Vakalis joined recently, though it’s unapparent whether or not he actually contributed to The Dogbones’ eponymous debut as any bass that might have been added left absolutely no impression whatsoever, to the point that any lower tones merely blends with the general garble of fuzzy distortion present herein.
Musically, the nicest thing I can say is that the songs on The Dogbones are well executed, poorly written wannabe grunge tunes. To call it grunge revival would be too much of a compliment—if anyone is going to bring grunge back into critical favor, it won’t be The Dogbones. This isn’t an impossible task—think about all the throwback fads to the 70s (I remember girls wearing flowered bellbottoms, oh, about ten, fifteen years ago). And the hipster style would be nothing without the mismatched 80s to inspire them. Who’s to say that the 90s aren’t next? Plaid has been rather fashionable lately.
Well, The Dogbones certainly have the format down, if nothing else. Imagine the first essay assigned in your English Composition I class, freshman year, where all the teacher wanted to know was whether or not you could structure a simple argument. Header, introduction, body (three paragraphs, minimum), conclusion, works cited. Done. Unfortunately, The Dogbones paid too much attention to their works cited page and too little attention to what they were arguing in the first place. The end result is a batch of sludge most bands wouldn’t put in their B-Sides collection, such as “I Want Alcohol,” the dumbest drug ballad ever written in ode to the least exciting of all the available vices mentioned, and “Hey Chihuahua”—no explanation necessary.
Even at their catchiest, The Dogbones are derivative and forgettable. Their most interesting song, “Never Gonna Get Us” is reliant upon a single chord change in the chorus, without which it would fall as flat as the rest. “The Whole World is Weird” and “All Your Friends (Are Going to Kill You)” contain lyrics aimed at plucking teenage heartstrings in the least imaginative way. “This Particular Hole” is reminiscent of Silverchair’s more adolescent efforts, and “Here They Come for the Money,” along with most of the album, is only interesting in guitar tone. Nomi’s harmonies are spot on when she tries…which is a shame considering she spends most of her hot air on either wistful screeching (think Kittie, but not as badass) or pornographic squealing. Johnny Orion’s idiotic mumblings (on the trite “Sell Your Soul” and the delusional “Give Us a Kiss”) only deepen the self-inflicted damage, though they are thankfully sparse.
True as it is that a sense of apathy was a key component to grunge, The Dogbones are trying way too hard to convey themselves as apathetic, and their songwriting suffers for it. Here is proof that sporting an image will never trump the music defining that image. I’ve always liked to think that the grunge look came as a result, as a byproduct of the ethos inspired by and put into the music of the scene, and of the time in which it was produced, not the other way around. But which came first: the chicken or the egg? The grunge answer is: Whatever.
Track List:
1. The Whole World is Weird
2. All Your Friends (Are Going to Kill You)
3. Never Gonna Get Us
4. Hey Chihuahua
5. Sell Your Soul
6. It Was a Lie
7. Give Us a Kiss
8. This Particular Hole
9. Here They Come For the Money
10. Ley Line
11. I Want Alcohol
12. Dead Kev Crow
13. Stitch
