Conor Donohue - Stray Dogs (self-released)

I liked the sound of “Wasteland,” the album opener, as soon as I dropped the virtual needle into the digital groove; something in its rock and roll lilt, its Beach Boy-esque backing vocals, its staccato riffs, and its raw beauty that just struck a chord. Then I read that the inspiration for the song came from a combination of Joseph Campbell’s “The Power of Myth” and T.S. Eliot’s “The Waste Land,” both books that I can see on my book selves as I sit here writing this.

Naturally, I upgraded Conor Donohue from a writer of cool songs to someone I should one day find myself leaning on a bar, drink in hand, having sprawling discussions about art and books and poetry and mythology and philosophy and history and ..well, everything. One day.

But Donohue is not an artist to be second-guessed. (Another reason to like him.) And from here, the album wanders where it likes. “Feel the Hit” reimagines Flaming Lips as a rock and roll band, “Franklin & Royal” is a strange blend of shuffling beats and squiggly electronica, Americana drift and alternative pop, and “Shape of Your Hand” is a mercurial and beautiful surf ballad.

With “Apocalypse Industry”‘s wonky faux-reggae rounding things off, you might, having read the above, still feel that you don’t have a great idea of what this album is all about. Me neither. It’s not something you really want to hear a reviewer say, but that is the point of the album… I think.

As a wise man once said, talking about music is like dancing about architecture…meaning that mere words are far too limiting a medium through which to capture music’s essence. Best you go and buy the album yourself, give it a spin and make your own mind up. (And you should, actually, you must!)

I really should have opened with that. Sorry for wasting your time.

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