That apparently dismissive title says it all: since the release of their first single in 2021, Dolores Forever have perfected the art of careful ambiguity, a skilled combination of subtle humour and throwaway lines with serious musicianship, which results in relatable and always innovative music.
‘It’s Nothing’ is a good old-fashioned album in the best sense: 10 tracks, each well crafted and strong enough to stand alone, combined into a coherent whole. The record is richly modern and at the same time soaked in a 1980s vibe. It’s Ataris and Roland synths, plugged into a modern, forward-looking digital interface. Transistor punk, perhaps? Lyrically, the songs in this collection are very clear, with plenty of brilliant one-liners and metaphors forming a close-to tangible imagery.
Press play and you’re delivered ‘Not Now Kids’ — what a start that is, with infectious, tongue-in-cheek energy from the get go. It’s upbeat and fun on a sonic and lyrical level, but with more serious undertones if you care to think between the lines. Those rapidly sung verses, dropping in pitch as we travel, ring so true: “Trying to get a reservation for the end of our existence, but every seat at every table’s taken up by politicians…” And then the kicker delivered in the chorus: those patronising lines, “Not now kids, the grown ups are talking”, parroted so freely by authority. This song could, and should, be an anchor for us all amid this era’s swirling political tides.
The track is also a great lead into ‘Someday Best’, maybe Dolores Forever’s most well-known song with the clever title pun and the infamous “Shut up and eat the pasta” line. That lyric makes an unlikely, understated anthemic refrain which is quirky, but not in a silly or fake way. That’s the thing about Dolores Forever: they’re absolutely credible. The duo started out as close friends, after being introduced at a house party, with the Dolores Forever project forming naturally after that. That bond has driven Hannah Wilson and Julia Fabrin to produce music which radiates honesty.
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Third up on the album is ‘Concrete’: pacey with buzzy ’80s synths, constant step-ups and myriad other sonic features sprinkled in. The lyricism is breathless and always on the front-foot. It’s a brilliant listen, head-spinningly so at times, and at this point in the track-list the song does a great job of glueing you into the overall album. It also allows for the simple but no-less powerful song which follows: ‘Split Lip’. Starting reflective and minimal, with processed vocals floating in the foreground, a gently pulsing beat, and subtle synths behind; there follows a slow, beautiful build with only very subtle additions each time including new vocal layers. “You know I hate seeing you like this” is an emergent theme, which feels almost triumphant by the end.
‘Stop Making It Worse’ continues the more stripped-back feel, but this time with dramatic, firm chords underneath, combined with almost light-hearted sections of piano, (synth) brass, hand claps, delicate singing and a bouncing rhythm. To juxtapose that with lyrics like “Stop making it worse …I blame it on my youth…” and then dark fuzzy guitar riffs which seem to echo through a void – well that’s genius.
‘Go Fast Go Slow’ carries an unswervable message of female empowerment (and, sadly, disempowerment), the rule of patriarchy, societal pressures and dilemmas. It’s again very honest with a clear call to action, but one which is delivered simply and without overt drama. A buzzy, engaging track and a key part of the journey of this well-thought out album.
We’ve now reached the final homeward run of four tracks which begins with ‘Rotten Peaches’: swirly and again apparently light, but telling a story of anxiety and a search for confidence. There’s a sense of realism here, an approach to life which is, in the end, positive but with the admission that everything is far from perfect. The undertone of anxiety seems to come to the surface in ‘Thank You For Breathing’. Starting with a melted down, glitchy sound – that early digital theme again – then developing up and out into a well-paced, attractive song, bouncing along under its own steam, but with plenty of side-eye and tongue in cheek attitude daring you to properly engage. Again it’s that combination of enjoyable music and honest message at which Dolores Forever excel.
“You’re the worst, but I’m not far behind” is the brilliant opening line of penultimate track ‘Grace’ which seems to take inspiration from 1950s rock and roll in the chord progressions and rhythms but is then thickly overlaid with decades of musical change, ending up in something future looking. The song carries you along and will always feel like a group-hugging singalong such is the strength of feeling Hannah and Julia impart.
This helps prepare us for the future-looking, low-key panic of ‘Why Are You Not Scared Yet?’. This is a song which captures the zeitgeist – that modern-age realism, and the feeling of resignation, or perhaps just acceptance of what’s to come, and through that the best kind of hope. But there’s also confusion, frustration, and a sort of hedonistic activism. It takes a very special talent to infuse a song with so much, and make it downright enjoyable to hear, too.
“It’s all downhill from here, why are you not scared yet. The end is nowhere near. It’s all downhill from here.”
I’m not so sure.
8/10
Words: Phil Taylor
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