They aren’t even real brothers. No blood relation. Off to a bad start are The Doobie Brothers, a band whose latest album, Walk This Road, releases just in time for their supporting slot with Electric Light Orchestra next month. What are the non-brothers up to, then? Dragging Mavis Staples and Mick Fleetwood into the recording studio and then contending with a release schedule which has all working ears on either the latest Little Simz album or the long-awaited new Pulp record. Walk This Road has a hell of a struggle in getting into third place for the day, though let it unfurl, the steady rock groove which The Doobie Brothers has provided for generations, is still solid. They need us to walk this road with them, though the reason for joining them on this travel is undefined and remains that way for the whole album. Outlaws, lawbreakers, these are the stories The Doobie Brothers adapt.
Walk This Road is a slice of the musical past. Countrified, electrified, and aimless. Slick instrumentals which hear out an impressive range of riffs and frets but have that vacant, hollow feeling which appeared in the 1980s. Extremely plain lyrics on Call Me are unavoidable. An inevitability which comes from music more focused on the instrumental feel, the wider range of nostalgia bait, than it is on incorporating comments on the world around us, crumbling as it is. We may walk this road, but The Doobie Brothers are lost in the undersized hedges, skittering around looking for their purpose. Walk This Road does not find that for them, but it does provide the easy-going listening so many yearn for while driving down the motorway. Call Me has a lazy heartland addition with its shy brass, the band seemingly frightened by the concept of changing their sound.
Where most of the album manages to avoid the slop of red Ford trucks and sweet grass chewing irony, Walk This Road skids along a fine line. State of Grace has the beauty of its message to rely on, but the preceding track Learn to Let Go struggles with the weight of a conscious, emotionally responsive message. Here to Stay is the awful slop which made discographies worth of music from some acts completely unlistenable. Their cheesy message, this desire for rock and roll to be the saviour without offering words of support to get anywhere close to that feeling, are a massive letdown to the soft rock, radio-friendly instrumental stylings. At least those moments are sweet enough, light work which leads to light thoughts. Anybody wanting a read on the world around them, a sense of connection to the world beyond the foot-tapping background bar noise, is better off looking elsewhere.
The Doobie Brothers have solid vocals, decent instrumentals, but a massive hole where the meaning should be. Slower and sloppier than their best ever, but is that not the case for so many artists coming back together for another trip around the globe? No, not really. It is a problem musicians with little to say have. Walk This Road is perfect music for when the fire is still burning at two in the morning, the mind somewhere between lucid response and overwhelmed fatigue. Too early to rest, too late to be active. The Doobie Brothers has provided another album to the ever-growing pile of easy-listening rock. One more release and the CDs, vinyl and USB sticks stuffed full of ELO deep cuts will scatter. The band offers very little here, but more of the same from The Doobie Brothers is not, entirely, a bad thing.
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I’m certainly not a music critic like yourself, but I’ve been a big fan of this Band since the early 70’s. Have seen them many ,many times over the decades, and I know they are proud of this release, as they should be. As a big fan I think it sounds fantastic.
This will only get the one spin I gave it. A quite boring affair really. Instrumentation is nice, voices sound frail, McDonald is his usualy unintelligible yet stylish self. No standout tracks that would warrant getting to the radio airwaves again. For Doobie completists only.
I agree with the review and Shawn. The best thing about this album was the cover painting.