doves

Doves' newest album, Kingdom of Rust, will satisfy old fans as well as garner new ones. The record is both urgent and essential, with an underlying anxiety waiting to break its calm exterior.

"House of Mirrors" best represents this suspense, featuring an aggressive guitar-riff pattern and vocals that sway in and out of distortion, all infused with a pervasive tension.

Doves have always managed to sound distinct while appealing to popular trends; on Rust, they embrace a sound they have come to call their own. Nearly every chorus is a poem, and the band's style is epic enough to run over the closing credits of the next Michael Bay movie. However, with the way bands are pigeonholed these days, infectious songs like "Winter Hill" or "Jetstream" will wind up fronting the next Apple commercial.

By use of unconventional instrumentation, Doves give hints of originality in every song. Yet they never jump off the deep end. The only risk occurs in the middle of "Lifelines," as the instrumentation drops out entirely, leaving the vocals to stand alone. It works.

The problem with Rust is that, four or five years from now, it might crop up on an "easy listening" station. Each song is satisfying, but they eventually run together after hearing the record straight through. In replicating their success, they have failed to come up with an original effort.

On Kingdom of Rust, Doves stick close to their formula and play it safe, which leaves them with a good but not great record and an impetus to try new things the next time around.