There is something tragically romantic about a bird that can’t fly, but the metaphor of useless wings doesn’t apply to the Dodos, who use their limbs with musical expertise on this sophomore disc.
Their distinctly humble sound has multiple rhythmic influences, including the spontaneity of African drumming, the deliberation of indie rock and a hillbilly shuffle. The first song, Walking, is a casual banjo-backed saunter into the sudden scattering of 16th notes on Red And Purple. Sometimes abruptly but always skilfully, these rhythms drag and push the record to its limit on the existential moaning of the album’s closer, God?
The Dodos hit the El Mocambo Wednesday (April 9).