New Tricks

Philly's DR. DOG digs up fresh sounds and widens its appeal with a remarkable new album

By Lavinia Jones Wright

When Dr. Dog released Fate – the band's fifth album - in late 2008, it felt like a debut. The fact is that every album Dr. Dog releases feels like a debut, because with each consecutive release, the band has climbed to a new level of recognition. Steadily, and with a Zen-like focus, they have cracked through each musical ceiling that faced them, winning new ears and satisfying old fans simultaneously. Their new album, Shame, Shame, has seen the jangly rockers graduating to bigger venues and a new label (Anti-). Recorded with Rob Schnapf in upstate New York, Shame, Shame is also the first record Dr. Dog made in a studio that wasn't their own. Though they grew up in Chester County, PA, Dr. Dog's cofounders Toby Lehman and Scott McMicken have lived in Philadelphia since 2001, and continuing to stay in the city's scene has become a huge part of their approach as a band. They operate the band like a Mom and Pop shop, except it's Pop and Pop shop with Lehman and McMicken splitting songwriting and frontman duties directly up the middle. This handson, down-home approach to rock and roll is most likely the secret behind the band's ability to stick it out through the hard work and long years it has taken them to break nationally. McMicken called Playback from the band's practice space, taking a break from spraypainting amps and t-shirts, to explain their steady rise to success.

Is fame something you fear could challenge you creatively?

That's a good question, because it's a doubleedged sword. It's exciting on one hand, but you almost have to disregard it. Not that you should do something intentionally unappealing, but the more you stay true to yourself and what you've always done, you can put orth your message on a larger level and [fame] only adds to the potency.

Then people can jump on at any point, listen to your band for the first time at any record, and get a good representation of what Dr. Dog is.

Definitely! I like that every new record is a new entry into some other level of exposure, but I don't have any regrets about any of our albums. I know what went into them and that feeling of satisfaction has been consistent, even though each one is a little different. I like that people can get into us now that we have more stuff out, and I also like that there are people who've been into us from the very start. Seemingly we never lose fans, we just pick up more.

I've heard that you really wrote and made Shame, Shame in a more communal fashion than previous records…

In the time between putting Fate out and talking about recording Shame, Shame, we were all aware that we got way better as a band live, so it was implicit that [Shame, Shame] was going to be more of a band effort. A lot of that had to do with the material that was on Fate. It challenged us a little.

How was the experience of working with a new producer in a new studio?

It wasn't as idealistic as we had hoped. Theoretically, we were supposed to be done in the middle of September, but we got through that month and were nowhere near done. We got the tapes, and spent the next two months finishing the tracking in our studio and mixing it at Larry [Gold]'s place in Philly. We made ourselves vulnerable enough to challenge everything and learn new things, but in the end we could go back home. It wasn't ideal but it was definitely a positive experience.

But obviously things did fall apart a little bit because Juston [Stens] ended up leaving Dr. Dog to start his own project.

That, too, was not an ideal thing, but has been a positive thing. He's always been a talented musician, and now that he went out and drummed and evolved with our band, he's advanced in several ways. He's so well rounded – a great guitar player and singer – and now he's just got all this knowledge and energy. And we've made changes that are positive for us, too, so it's hard to resent the situation.

It seems like with Shame, Shame, more so that ever, critics have been harping on your Beatles influences.

I think they are, but it's not something I resent. It's accurate. The fundamental problem I have with it conceptually, is when I think of the narrative of music. It's all part of a tradition, from the earliest recorded music. Blues music is a great representation of that. The base level thing for us is to feel as though you are within a certain set of parameters, and to realize that despite that, there are no limitations and no lack of potential for anything original.

You guys are very recording-minded musicians. Do you write and record albums with the sequencing in mind?

Each song is a thing unto itself, and it never needs to go in any particular direction based on what the other songs are doing. Dr. Dog albums can sound like a mixtape. That is a big Beatles influence. We've always been into checking out all kinds of different sounds. It can make sequencing really tough; you can't put this song next to that song and there's this weird logic built in. At least Toby and I always agree.

You'd think sequencing would be more difficult having two major songwriters working 50/50.

One parameter that gets us going is that it's typically every other song for me and him, live and on the records. I have an immense amount of respect for Toby. He tends to bring solid resolve to everything and more instinctual, visceral reactions. That, in music, is so important. Then I can sit there and labor over it in my head.

What effect has coming from Philadelphia had on your sound?

It feels good to be a part of a city with a very rich musical history. We're into soul music and R&B, and that influence shows up a lot, but I don't know if that's just a common cause. As far as my own songwriting, I've lived in West Philly for ten years now, and every year I feel more in love with the community. My feelings and connections to the people and the feel in the neighborhood and the vibrancy of it all have had a real influence on my imagination.