Doves - Kingdom Of Rust

Let’s get this out in the open right from the start – this writer has never been too worked up either way about Doves. Although more commercially successful, they always seemed to come across like a more stodgy, less nuanced version of Elbow – their albums not without their moments (everyone with half a brain knows ‘There Goes the Fear’ is fantastic), but padded out with filler and never quite delivering on the promise of their best songs.

Their fourth album Kingdom of Rust puts paid to such notions – it’s fantastic. It doesn’t feel like a radical departure, nor is it an obvious step-up, but like Elbow’s ‘The Seldom Seen Kid’ and The Walkmen’s ‘You & Me’, it’s just slightly better than their back catalogue in every facet, and the marginal improvement goes an awfully long way. To these ears, this is the first Doves album that makes the listener want to press the repeat button.

As ever, their sound is rich, combining the pulsing momentum of house music with the sumptuous melodies of space-rock, but this time everything comes off. If Doves could have been accused of bludgeoning the listener in the past – this is after all the band that named a song ‘Pounding’ – then no more. ‘The Greatest Denier’ benefits from taking the foot off the throttle just when you expect it to do exactly the opposite. ‘10.03’ starts out as a gorgeous ballad, only to unleash one of the most danceable codas in recent memory – up there with Arcade Fire’s ‘Wake Up’. Great songs abound: Winter Hill is propelled by one of the loveliest choruses you’ll hear all year, the title of track rides along a skiffly groove, and closing track ‘Lifelines’ is properly epic, but magnificently so.

It’s a thumbs-up then: bands legions of fans who sent their previous two albums to No.1 will surely get on board again, while those who never quite ‘got it’ in the past are invited to do so. Another hit seems assured, and deserved.