by Chad Rafferty (@chadrafferty)
When describing any new album, there’s an ever-increasing tendency to flatten artists, particularly those of the indie or underground variety, by describing their music via comparison to one or more other artists, usually those of classic or cult status, to the point where anyone finding success in minor key guitar is almost inevitably likened to Elliott Smith. Some of this is instructive efficiency (if you like that, you’ll probably like this), some of it is paying earnest homage to the influence of the greats, and some of it speaks to how rare a novel concept really is.
That said, at times, this process starts to feel like a cupping ceremony at a specialty coffee shop — everyone trying out the same grounds, searching for familiar scents and flavors, then comparing those impressions to what experts say they should be tasting, feeling enthusiastically validated when they align, and at a certain point losing sight of the point: Subjectively, does the coffee taste good, or not?
So, coming around to the point of this review, in the case of Dougie Poole, you’ll likely read a dozen opinions on his music and find comparisons to a dozen different names known in most houses, from Tom Petty to Merle Haggard — maybe Dougie just has one of those faces. None of this is necessarily a problem, and probably speaks to the accessibility of Poole’s music more than anything else. Speaking anecdotally, his most frequently referenced sonic doppelgangers seem to be Josh Tillman and most folks associated with Outlaw or Cosmic scenes, though his latest release, The Rainbow Wheel of Death, has opened the door even further.
For example, you might say that at various points throughout the record, Poole sounds like Springsteen featuring on a New Order track (“High School Gym”) alongside notes of Sky Blue Sky-era Wilco (“Nickels & Dimes”), before morphing into to hints of Aladdin Sane-era Bowie (“Must Be In Here Somewhere”) while the entire record is carried by the witty flavor profile of early Warren Zevon. Of course, all of these claims, and none of them, are true. Then, when you take the time to brush the icons aside for a moment, you’ll find that, fittingly for a (former) Brooklynite churning out classic country tunes, the truth is that no matter his influences, no one sounds quite like Dougie Poole, and The Rainbow Wheel of Death is arguably his most cohesive and structurally focused album yet.
Recorded live in five days amidst beer and BBQ (according to the liner notes), the songs and characters populating Poole’s latest are full, well-thought and well-executed. His voice sounds better than ever, and though much of the psych tinge of his previous work is gone, he finds himself grounded in a fresh spin on classic Americana. The opener and title track is a joyful romp through purgatory, setting a scene that both MacBook users and serial overthinkers will find all too familiar. Lead single “High School Gym” is the greatest outlier, i.e the record’s least country song, though it also might be its best, pairing a somber dream of lost loved ones with an irresistibly catchy synth.
For an artist who was notably forced away from music during peak pandemic, Rainbow Wheel is an excellent return to and expansion of form. Death and loss are present in pretty much every groove of the record, but so is life, as Poole draws attention to meaning in the mundane details like hors d'oeuvres at a funeral, Pall Malls cigarettes and the ghost of a grandmother in a frilled robe. Poole embraces the void with a cheerful grimace, deftly merging devastation with earworm country hooks, showcasing songwriting that’s matched only by his sense of humor.
All in all, The Rainbow Wheel of Death is a record that’s equal parts deeply felt, tightly produced, and melodically affixing. Like its namesake, the album is rooted in an assurance that even though things may seem hopeless at times, there’s always something worthwhile to keep on spinning for.