| A few months ago I wrote a double-header of reviews about bands both named the Dipsomaniacs. The Norwegian Dipsomaniacs proved to be the better of the two.
Praying Winter was released on the Australian label Camera Obscura as long ago as 2003, but that doesn’t stop us at CDreviews.com from liking the album and promoting it. Reigning in their more arena rock stylings that dominated 2001’s Stethoscopic Notion, this latest outing from the Dipsomaniacs opts for blissful chamber pop. Chief Dipsomaniac Øyvind Holm leads the band through fourteen songs that, if quieter, are also darker and more emotionally intense than any of their previous releases. And of course, this is still a psychedelic band; so the dreamy soundscapes and occasional backwards taping suits the band nicely.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. The Dipsomaniacs’ chief influence is the king of bands: the Beatles. Holm’s honeyed yet nasal voice can only remind us of the Fab Four, not to mention the unbeatable melodies and psychedelic outlook. However, the music is so damned good this time that carping about influences is particularly untimely on the reviewer’s part. The band was already good, but this album marks their move into the great.
The perfectly constructed “How To Fall”, with its oddly-timed pick sweeps and trombone comments, is nothing if not a good example of this band’s maturity. “There’s a limit to what I can take / But you push is it just for the sake / Of the pain you might cause if I break? / It’s a rusty and well-oiled mistake.” Never has Holm given us such controlled yet profound regret. Likewise, on “Caught by This Feeling” Holm squeezes out so much emotion with every shift in his voice. Here again the emphasis is on looking back to the past in a sort of reckoning. Holm sees his innocence in the past dissolve with the uncertainty of today “caught by this feeling.”
On the flip side, the harder songs rollick with sarcasm. The release found in “One Good Cry” is obviously temporary and false; consequently the band’s heavier guitars drive the point home with bitterness. For the most part, though, the Dipsomaniacs vacillate between the longing of unrequited love and the regret that’s discovered when we finally get what we want… and find it’s not what we want.
Musically, these songs excel at velocitizing the listener. Let me explain the word “velocitize” as Microsoft Word seems to feel it’s bogus. When you drive on the highway, after a while you get adjusted to moving at a high velocity and feel like you’re going much slower than you actually are. That’s being velocitized. Likewise, the Dipsomaniacs often throw their melodies at you in so many varied speeds all at the same time that you don’t know whether or not they’re going fast or slow. Of course, they’re neither one nor the other: they’re both. But our ears don’t register that very well in action, and instead the listener is pleasantly mesmerized (or velocitized). The fluttering drums and the meandering guitars that follow the chords have different speeds, but are all part of the same signal that is “Don’t Think You’re Safe.” “Beyond Repair” is another good example.
“Bah,” you say, “I don’t care about all this pop-music-theory! You probably can’t even read music! Just tell me whether or not to buy the album!”
Well, you should buy it.
Although some of the tragedy in this album is a tad forced, on the whole the Dipsomaniacs do an excellent job of basking in the summer of psychedelic rock (the 60’s), while managing to be more self-aware and regretful (the 90’s). True, the lyrics in the CD booklet are printed in Courier, which is so last decade, but hey, nobody’s perfect. Many of us seem to be in denial when it comes to living in the aughts (the 00’s), and if the Dipsomaniacs (how uncouth! a psychedelic band!) are among the many, I won’t throw any stones. Neither should you.
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