Song of the day – 407: Dick Diver
Just some great music from a label noted for consistently putting out same.
It won’t bring down governments. It won’t. It straddles an uneasy line between Marquee Moon and early Dire Straits and something all warm and fulfilling (The Bats, say), but frankly Dire Straits were underrated. It won’t cause children’s playgrounds to be refurnished. It won’t. The guitars play gently and sweetly to themselves, and harmonies are thrown in like the entire world understands the appeal of Flying Nun Records during the 80s, like the whole world knows the thrill to be had from cycling over open heather and dense gorse, like the whole world still has access to the same space some of us still have access to in this bewilderingly Google-reduced life. Songs are songs are songs. Songs are sweet minutiae are sweet inspiration. It won’t make your favourite hate figure feel uneasy. It won’t. But the debut album from Dick Diver is called New Start Again, and it pays repeated listens and it pays cursory listens and it pays any sort of listening at all. And Dire Straits really did have a wonderful guitar sound before it became bastardised through over-exposure.* Not that this doesn’t sound more akin to something like Dead Famous People. Or whomever. Gorgeous vocals. Couldn’t have come from anywhere except Australia … uh, except New Zealand, obviously.
*If you’re the sort of person to be put off by this, don’t be. I’m only referring to the guitar tone on ‘Flying Teatowel Blues’. The comparison doesn’t hold too much water outside it. It just so happened I was listening to that song when I started typing this, and Charlotte called out their name.
Share this post:
- Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window)
- Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)
- Click to print (Opens in new window)
by Everett True
My name is Everett True. I am a music critic. This is what I do. I criticise music. The clue is in my job description – music critic. I do not consider myself a journalist, as I do not research or report hard news. I do not consider myself a commentator as I believe that everyone should be a participant. I criticise people and in return I am not surprised if other people criticise me. It is part of the whole deal of being in the public arena. I am Everett True. Believe in me and I have power like a God. Quit believing in me and I no longer exist.