It didn’t quite happen for Dogs first time round. After building a reputation as a thrilling live act, they were whisked away to record their debut album (‘Turns Against The Land’) to some promise in 2005, but for whatever reason (the band cite not really being ready for it when the opportunity came along) they ended up watching from the sidelines while the likes of Maximo Park and Kaiser Chiefs hit the big time instead of them. Two years and a hell of a lot of gigs later they are back to try and make amends with ‘Tall Stories From Under The Table’ at a time when bands like The Enemy are finding success with a similar brand of indie rock.
‘Dirty Little Shop’ is an excellent way to start. The bass intro and energetic guitar line combine with Johnny Cooke’s searing vocals and a euphoric chorus to create a moment of real quality. The glorious refrain “And you don’t let it fall apart, They’re stabbing little daggers right through your heart” adds emotional resonance to what is all-round a rather good song. Amongst other things ‘Dirty Little Shop’ is a song about desperation of the downtrodden (“the coldest place in the betting shop is by the litter bin, you lost the lot”) and much of ‘Tall Stories…’ focuses on similar themes. From the escapism of ‘Forget It All’ and ‘Who Are Yu’s exploration of the boredom and depression of the 9-5, to the examination of jumped up East End gangsters in ‘Little Pretenders’, Dogs paint a dark portrait of London in 2007.
The album references “Welfare”, “young conservatives” and politically-minded collage artist Winston Smith (the man responsible for the Dead Kennedy’s banned ‘In God We Trust, Inc’ album cover) while setting everything against an aggressive backdrop of drink and drug-addled young London. More than anyone, ‘Tall Stories…’ aligns Dogs with the Jam (Weller himself guests on piano on final track ‘Let It Lay’) and The Clash with their politically charged lyrics, disaffected vitriol and quintessential Englishness, and they would probably have loved to have been making music 30 years ago. While invested with a similar London spirit as ‘Up The Bracket’ or ‘A Weekend In The City’, Dogs make noticeably more disaffected music than the Libertines’ romanticism of the good ship Albion and more straightforward fare than Bloc Party’s intricate deconstruction of city life.
Throughout ‘Tall Stories…’ Dogs walk a fine line between an excellent rock’n’roll band and an average one. Often a song will begin in a less than convincing manner – such as ‘Soldier On’s opening statement: “Here’s to all the lonely old soldiers” – only to grab you by the arm and pull you in. Like an awkward boy on the edge of a school disco dance floor, you may pretend you don’t want to dance, you may even believe yourself that you don’t, but once you get dragged in it’s damned good fun. This is exactly the way that song (and several others on the album) develops with its irresistible fraught, passionate, hell-for-leather chorus draws you in. Similarly, ‘Forget It All’s contrived line “run from the white coats, you’re not going to dance today” is initially a little off-putting but the aching guitars and anthemic chorus mean it ends up as an album highlight.
There are several other highlights on a record that doesn’t allow the listener much time for reflection, so on edge are all the songs. ‘Who Are Yu’ ends up like a harder-edged Kaiser Chiefs with its questioning chorus and Cribs-esque backing shouts, while the frenetic ‘Little Pretenders’ gives heavier treatment to the violence of East London that is world’s away from the fashionista neighbourhoods of the area. The final two tracks on ‘Tall Stories…’ prove that Dogs can do anthems too, with Cooke’s vocals at their best. He trembles through lines like “We grew up with this every day” and “I hope you’re better mate cos I can’t help getting afraid” on the nostalgic ‘By The River’, while ‘Let It Lay’s glorious chorus of “If you’re running away don’t waste it” is the finest moment on the album.
Dogs are at their best when they keep it simple like this. However, they mix their grand, affecting moments with attempts at contrived poetics, the more contrived of which do tend to stand out (see for example “the bullet whistles like a poison kiss” or “she’s been eating £50 notes as a slow red river runs sleepily over her” from ‘These Days’). Elsewhere, lines like “Right now I reckon I’m better off out with a packet of snouts and a shivering face” (‘Little Pretenders’), “He put the ‘pissed’ in philanthropist” (‘Who Are Yu’), “I’m heading for the bright lights, with a little bit of gumption…I’ve got one foot in heaven and the other in town” (‘On A Bridge, By A Pub’) and rhyming “balaclava” with “palaver” (‘These Days’) can either be endearingly entertaining or a little painful, though with the passion oozing from Johnny Cooke’s voice it is hard not to be charmed.
The album is, though, positively dripping with the passion and commitment of a band who have nearly made it once and are determined not to blow it again. It may not be revolutionary, but ‘Tall Stories…’ is dynamic and engaging enough throughout. Guitar riffs pulsate like synapses through an album that is racked with nervous energy and Cooke’s vocals are great throughout – though the recurring faux-sneering fills of “Yeah right” or similar are another aspect of the album that can be a little cringe-making. Whatever you think of their music, though, you certainly can’t fault Dogs for effort or endeavour and this is something that comes across in every song.
As rock’n’roll albums go ‘Tall Stories From Under The Table’ is certainly not the best you’ll ever hear, probably not the best you’ll hear this year, maybe not even this month. But Dogs have something that, given the chance, might just win you over. Whether it’s the commitment to every note, the non-stop action or just the melodies of songs like ‘Dirty Little Shop’, ‘Tall Stories…’ gets under your skin. If the likes of the Enemy and the Twang are adorning NME covers left right and centre, there is no reason why Dogs can’t join them. I’d rather listen to this band any day…
First published on rockfeedback.com. See it here.
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