polaroids of androids

Back before the abomination that is today's RnB, there was a genre of music called Rhythm and Blues. It formed the basis of Rock and Roll (not the Alt-Post-Nu-Metal-Christian-Adjectivey-Rock bullshit that's floating around today), and also included elements of country music (again, not the vomit inducing tripe that saturates the charts and redneck radio stations of rural America). Some of the finest musicians in the history of the universe chose to ply their trade making music of this genre, and in doing so managed to create an entire industry out of something that used to be a way of distracting from the fact that no one had bothered to invent televisions and computers and ice lattes and inflatable sex dolls yet. Or something like that. What would I know? It's not like I was alive back then anyway.

Anyway, some 2 or 50 or 375 or some-such years later, along comes a little duo called The Dodos who cause a huge uproar by playing the exact same type of music as these trailblazers, albeit with a dash of the influences picked up by drinking all those lattes thrown in for good measure. And my goodness, shock horror, as god is my witness, have proved that yes, it is possible to make good music with a guitar and a drum kit and a) not need 6 effects pedals, 2 samplers and the latest top of the line electricity powered instruments and b) don't have to have a fancy haircut, wear the latest fashions, have a gimmick or be a pretentious arsehole.

By cutting out the bullshit and just getting down to business, The Dodos manage to achieve a rare feat in today's music industry: Actually creating music. Music you can dance to, tap your foot to, cry to, play to your grandparents without them cringing, so on, so forth. It's not noise, it's not abstract, it's not concept driven, it's just music. And this is good. Red and Purple, Fools, Joe's Waltz, Jodi, Ashley and Undeclared are the main highlights, but none of the other tracks let them down at all.

It's just a pity for the band that they are 3 generations too late. Once upon a time this album would have been considered a masterpiece. Today, while still being a fantastic album, it's not quite sharp enough to cut all the way through the thickly compacted bowels that is today's music industry. The best it can hope for is a place on a few blog and website best-of lists at the end of the year. And that there is the irony of the whole fucked up incident.