The Easy Sound of the Gospel of the Dog

We are college students, so we like rock and roll. Such is God’s long-standing decree (Genesis 1:1). But we are a discriminating bunch—we have standards. Rheingold vs. Brooklyn Lager. Jet vs. Kings of Leon. We know what was created equal and what was not.

But Dr. Dog topples our convenient system. They are seemingly two things at once, simultaneously cheap and fine, grainy and elegant. Their lo-fi production style definitely shoots from the hip, bathing them in paradox--—progressive while retro, indie while pop, simple while complicated.

In striving to create an inclusive agenda based on maintaining artistic integrity, Dr. Dog builds on a tradition blazed by past giants like the Beatles and the Beach Boys. Yet even while looking back, the band aspires to move forward—and move forward they do.

Scott McMicken, Toby Leaman, Juston Stens, Zach Miller, and Andrew Jones are humble; they know their current fortune is at least partially due to good, old-fashioned divine providence. Specifically, a coincidental friendship and some choice CD packaging helped spur Dr. Dog’s breakout tour with My Morning Jacket. Keyboardist Miller says, “before that, we were kind of plugging along in the Philly bar scene. We were doing okay, but that tour put us on another level of exposure ... we’ve always had lucky breaks.”

Don’t confuse the Dog with the Jacket, though; Dr. Dog’s simple, sweet melodies provide a stark contrast to MMJ’s more traditional riff-based rock sound. But on Dr. Dog’s latest of three albums, Easy Beat, it might just be the harmonized vocals that stand out most. For that, of course, we can thank the Beach Boys, by all accounts a major influence on Dr. Dog. “We used to have a couple Beach Boys covers we’d do,” Miller says. “The harmonies go back to that.” He cites some of the Boys’ best known albums: “Pet Sounds, Smile, Friends—I’ve heard people say they’ve heard Friends referenced as a negative thing, but it’s amazing.”

The band’s faith in uncomplicated melodies and sing-along aesthetics also recalls the Beatles. Miller agrees the Fab Four helped shape their sound. “I feel like our songs are not esoteric in a way that the Beatles’ also were not,” Miller says. “I don’t really put (our music) into a genre ... I think it can appeal to so many people. The Beatles were never in a genre, and I think that’s what we’re going for.”

The challenge, then, is a matter of creating universal appeal while staying true to a vision. Miller insists Dr. Dog’s music is for “parents, little sisters, and friends,” yet their grainy sound and retro style recall Pavement or the Velvet Underground much more than they echo anything your little sister would listen to (unless your little sister is way cooler than mine).

They don’t seem too worried that broader audiences tend to ignore bands that put art above appeal: Dr. Dog treats them as one in the same. To those who would claim the band’s sound is an obstacle to success, Miller again cites the Beatles: “The Beatles’ recordings sound amazing, but there are clicks and missed chords and everything and it all stayed in there. That’s what I really like about it: the notion [that] it musn’t be a vacuum-sealed, sonically perfect song. These little things give it a lot of character.”

Though today’s music industry might seem daunting for a sonically varied band like Dr. Dog, they are staying the course. The broader market that Dr. Dog hopes to reach will have a chance to take notice on March 15, the date slated for the nationwide release of Easy Beat. The album is coming out on National Parking Records, an imprint of Devil in the Woods. The band also has tour dates lined up in Hoboken and at the Mercury Lounge. They certainly seem to have found a fairly comfortable medium between legitimate tunes and broad potential.

But it’s a fine line requiring a fine band. Take “Wake Up,” the closing track on Easy Beat. A simple guitar line, a relaxed tempo, and a harmonized chorus (sounding something like “doowe-oowe-a-pa-pa”) precede the song’s eventual structural breakdown, which is succeeded by an acoustic guitar that takes over for the coda. On top of the acoustic melody the band sings a repeated sugar-sweet verse in unison: “Wake up, wake up, wake up / We’re only part of a dream / All the things in your heart / Like the things in your head / They’re only what they seem.”

This song sounds every bit as progressive and “indie” as the last album purchased at your record grocer of choice, but what it lacks is any hint of pretension or general too-coolness. Sing along, the songs beg, and tell the dude next to you to do the same. “We’re not going for an exclusive niche market,” Miller says. “We’re singing songs for everybody.” Parents, little sisters, and, of course, friends.