Pitchfork
April 30, 2010
Link
8.0
With MySpace, Facebook, and Twitter having made musicians so accessible, artists and listeners now seem to be missing some of the distance that, not so long ago, created an air of mystique around our favorite bands. Acts like the Tough Alliance, Blank Dogs, and Burial have made being unknowable desirable in the Internet era. That there's so little information on Worcester, Mass. five-piece Dom may be partly due to the fact that they've only been a band for a few months, but then again, the group's endlessly quotable Rising interview with Pitchfork earlier this month had no shortage of willful obscurity: Lead singer Dom declined to share his last name, and blurred the line between fact and fiction so nonchalantly that it became hard to know if anything he said could be believed at all.
Dom's incorrigible swagger carries over to their debut EP, Sun Bronzed Greek Gods, already sold out on cassette, and available on 10" vinyl early next month. Their demo-level production, surf-rock licks, cavernous reverb, and "psychedelic sampling elements"-- as the singer described it in a Craigslist ad recruiting band members last December-- might lead some people to align the group with chillwave. But their arena-size choruses, actual drummer, and overall don't-give-a-fuck spirit put Dom in a category of their own. In truth, the majority of their tracks are closer in tone to the female-fronted college-rock bands that hailed from their home state in the 90s, relying less on consumer synths than fuzzed-out guitars, revving bass, and lockstep drums.
The phrase "do it yourself" gets thrown around a lot, but "do your own thing" is a better goal, and Dom both embody and challenge that ideal. They sing about ecstasy and basement parties, yet their mini-anthem "Burn Bridges" could cross over as easily as Passion Pit, a band who tried, to no avail, to sign Dom to their own Black Bell label earlier this year. The electro fuzz on "Living in America" comes straight from French house, but it's subverted by an intentionally vapid chorus ("It's so sexy/ To be living in America"), which Dom himself acknowledges as "a 'YMCA'-type track that I would be best known for but forever hate myself for writing." What else would you expect from a 22-year-old who dismisses the troubled upbringing of Girls frontman Christopher Owens as "probably just his publicist's idea" right after discussing his own childhood experiences in foster homes?
Maybe Dom lie so they can get away with telling the truth. Their song "Jesus" is laced with drug references and movie-theater make-outs, but longs for the kind of substance that can't be abused: "Gimme gimme/ Something to believe in." That brand of subtle, detached malaise is present throughout the record, from the wistful noise-pop number "Hunny" to minor-key closer "I Wonder". But ultimately, what makes Sun Bronzed Greek Gods work is the band's innate understanding of the power of a killer hook, and their ability to turn them out effortlessly on each of the EP's seven tracks. Sincere, sharp, catchy, funny-- maybe these songs are all you need to know about Dom after all.
Unedited draft after the jump:
Mystique abides. Remember how MySpace, YouTube, Facebook, and Twitter were supposed to bring our pop stars down to Earth? Well, something happened on the way to Arctic Monkeys or Clap Your Hands Say Yeah taking over the world: People missed the mystery. In Brooklyn, MGMT have made myth-making their own myth. Swedish acts like the Tough Alliance and jj remain as unknowable as they are musically accessible. Every day, Rick Ross hustles.
So there's at least a 50% chance Dom are full of shit. The Worcester, Mass., trio's MySpace page lists their label as Young Money Entertainment, whose artists have their authenticity both ways-- Lil Wayne and Drake may lack Jay-Z's drug-dealing resume, but both brag about being "real"-- better than pretty much anybody else. Lead singer Dom, who refuses to share his last name, is almost too hilarious to fact-check. Hell, they've only been a band a few months.
Dom's incorrigible swagger carries over to their debut EP, Sun Bronzed Greek Gods, already sold out on cassette and available on 10" vinyl early next month. Demo-level production, surf-rock licks, and "psychedelic sampling elements"-- as the singer put it in a Craigslist ad recruiting band members last December-- align the group with what's generally labeled as chillwave. Jock-jam chord progressions, party-in-the-U.S.A. choruses, and an overall don't-give-a-fuck spirit put Dom in a category of their own. Bonus: a real drummer.
The phrase "do it yourself" gets thrown around a lot, but "do your own thing" is better. Dom both embody that ideal and sardonically challenge it. They sing about ecstasy, basement parties, and "I don't really care attitude"s. Still, the crystal synths on islands-never-cry anthem "Burn Bridges" are pure Passion Pit (who tried to sign Dom to their own Black Bell label); the electro fuzz on Rocky IV-worthy "Living in America" is straight from French house, and that Craiglist ad actually calls Dom's style "trendy." What else did you expect from a 22-year-old who dismisses another band leader's troubled upbringing as "probably just his publicist's idea"-- right after talking at length about his own rough childhood?
Forget all you haters, Dom are for lovers. "Bochicha" might not actually be the official song of the American Hockey League's Worcester Sharks, but with its "What I Like About You"-meets-"Cherry, Cherry" jangle-punch and Ke$ha-friendly vocal-- that high-pitched harmony risks causing one of those Hanson "MMMBop" moments, where you briefly think the lead singer is a hot girl-- well, it probably should be. "Don't wanna swim/ Just wanna feel the waves break," the jazzier "Rude as Jude" goes, and the bridge hits just like waves breaking. Looks like we're headed for another summer of "summery."
Or maybe Dom lie so they can get away with telling the truth. The idea of drug references and movie-theater make-outs on a song called "Jesus" is damn funny-- but don't forget the dude's singing, "Gimme gimme/ Something to believe in." Slumberland-ready dream-pop shambles "Hunny" finds the guy who says his mother "dumped me off when I was 8" yearning for a woman who "didn't care." It's devastating. On minor-key closer "I Wonder", we're in the simple-sincere territory of San Francisco's Girls, the ones with their own history of lost innocence: "I don't have a reason to lie."
Believe it. Or don't. Like New England native son Jonathan Richman, born just about an hour away in Natick, Dom mean exactly what they say-- and are too smart not to know what that means. It means it doesn't matter whether they "mean" it or not. Just as long as you feel it. "They were wild like the U.S.A.," Richman sings about another "mystery band" on 1992's I, Jonathan. "Rock'n'roll, but not like the rest." Worcester, fuck yeah.
So there's at least a 50% chance Dom are full of shit. The Worcester, Mass., trio's MySpace page lists their label as Young Money Entertainment, whose artists have their authenticity both ways-- Lil Wayne and Drake may lack Jay-Z's drug-dealing resume, but both brag about being "real"-- better than pretty much anybody else. Lead singer Dom, who refuses to share his last name, is almost too hilarious to fact-check. Hell, they've only been a band a few months.
Dom's incorrigible swagger carries over to their debut EP, Sun Bronzed Greek Gods, already sold out on cassette and available on 10" vinyl early next month. Demo-level production, surf-rock licks, and "psychedelic sampling elements"-- as the singer put it in a Craigslist ad recruiting band members last December-- align the group with what's generally labeled as chillwave. Jock-jam chord progressions, party-in-the-U.S.A. choruses, and an overall don't-give-a-fuck spirit put Dom in a category of their own. Bonus: a real drummer.
The phrase "do it yourself" gets thrown around a lot, but "do your own thing" is better. Dom both embody that ideal and sardonically challenge it. They sing about ecstasy, basement parties, and "I don't really care attitude"s. Still, the crystal synths on islands-never-cry anthem "Burn Bridges" are pure Passion Pit (who tried to sign Dom to their own Black Bell label); the electro fuzz on Rocky IV-worthy "Living in America" is straight from French house, and that Craiglist ad actually calls Dom's style "trendy." What else did you expect from a 22-year-old who dismisses another band leader's troubled upbringing as "probably just his publicist's idea"-- right after talking at length about his own rough childhood?
Forget all you haters, Dom are for lovers. "Bochicha" might not actually be the official song of the American Hockey League's Worcester Sharks, but with its "What I Like About You"-meets-"Cherry, Cherry" jangle-punch and Ke$ha-friendly vocal-- that high-pitched harmony risks causing one of those Hanson "MMMBop" moments, where you briefly think the lead singer is a hot girl-- well, it probably should be. "Don't wanna swim/ Just wanna feel the waves break," the jazzier "Rude as Jude" goes, and the bridge hits just like waves breaking. Looks like we're headed for another summer of "summery."
Or maybe Dom lie so they can get away with telling the truth. The idea of drug references and movie-theater make-outs on a song called "Jesus" is damn funny-- but don't forget the dude's singing, "Gimme gimme/ Something to believe in." Slumberland-ready dream-pop shambles "Hunny" finds the guy who says his mother "dumped me off when I was 8" yearning for a woman who "didn't care." It's devastating. On minor-key closer "I Wonder", we're in the simple-sincere territory of San Francisco's Girls, the ones with their own history of lost innocence: "I don't have a reason to lie."
Believe it. Or don't. Like New England native son Jonathan Richman, born just about an hour away in Natick, Dom mean exactly what they say-- and are too smart not to know what that means. It means it doesn't matter whether they "mean" it or not. Just as long as you feel it. "They were wild like the U.S.A.," Richman sings about another "mystery band" on 1992's I, Jonathan. "Rock'n'roll, but not like the rest." Worcester, fuck yeah.
