In the unlikely event that anyone makes a movie version of Australian author Tim Winton’s critically acclaimed Dirt Music, I propose Hank Dogs to perform the soundtrack. Never mind that the Dogs hail from South London, and the book is about Australian fisherman/farmer/musician Luther Fox. Both the Dogs and Fox are enamored with American vernacular music, and both are tortured over love, loss and hope.
This English trio, under the wing of impresario Joe Boyd, has become a cult favorite on the American indie scene. Ethereal harmonies, tortured romantic lyrics and acoustic guitars create a mesmerizing folk-noir sound that stops just short of gothic. It’s the kind of music I imagine the band in Dirt Music could have made, if they had only loved music more than the trappings of performance.
Hank Dogs also are a family band of sorts: guitar-playing, cowboy-hat-wearing Andy, his ex-wife Piano (who sings and plays guitar), and Andy’s daughter by an earlier marriage, Lily, who sings and drums. Piano provides most of the lead vocals, with harmonies wrapped sinuously around her lines by Lily, calling to mind some combination of Enya and the Cowboy Junkies.
On this, their second album, the Dogs sing mostly of the darker side of love and other relationships, the staple of introspective folk music since Joni Mitchell picked up a guitar. The loping opener “Same New” is about learning when to listen to and when to ignore one’s inner voice; “Torture,” a slow jig-like tune, posits love as the ultimate high, and is highlighted by Andy’s delicate mandolin filigree. “Bed of Rice” examines love as surrender and mostly-willing captivity, with a warning: “Cross that line and it’s all over…”
Andy sings lead on the most straightforward track, “Hollywood.” Two acoustic guitars, one finger-picked, one flat-picked, evoke sunny California, albeit in a minor key — think Fleetwood Mac filtered through early Joan Baez. It’s an homage to an old flame who has surrendered to the Hollywood hit-making machine and is lost to the likes of Andy among the bright lights of La-la Land. Ethereal, twining harmonies from Piano and Lily accentuate the depth of the loss, which is lightened by a bevy of pop-culture references.
It’s always a good idea to listen closely to the title track for the artists’ clues to an album’s theme, and “Half Smile” is no exception. Moody, imagistic lyrics about the dark spots in the human heart are set against Celtic-sounding melody and minor chords as Piano and Lily sing in their lilting harmony about sifting through the grave of a love affair: “The other side of a dark winter/we’re digging over our remains/all the ashes of attachment/how can we resist the change.” Andy’s bass harmony wafts in and out like the ghost of A.P. Carter, as his e-bowed guitar evokes troubled spirits.
Throughout this album, brief but tasteful contributions of dobro, cello, double bass and electric piano from guest players, as well as banjo, accordion and autoharp from this trio, flesh out the arrangements and ensure some variety amidst the gloom.
Poetic and well-constructed lyrics, otherworldly harmony, low-key instrumentation and Joe Boyd’s deft production combine to set the Hank Dogs apart from other country-folk ensembles.
(SpinArt, 2002)
