DewolffOne of the first things to stand out about Dutch trio DeWolff's third album, DeWolff IV, is what seems to be the champion of their sound; it's absolutely drenched in Hammand organ goodness. Well, goodness clearly if you like that sort of thing. Those who do like that sort of thing probably also have a fondness for other retro revivalists like Wolfmother and Jack White, and for anything that sounds like the original and the best really, like Hawkwind. It's a well-trodden path but contrary to some output by their peers, it's more in keeping with its surrounds; there's a sense of steadfast resolve to play and record the sound they seem to know and love.
The second thing that stands out is singer Pablo Van De Poel's vocal chops – opener, Voodoo Mademoiselle, showcases his vintage tenor, rasping inflections and sweeping falsetto octave changes in the space of a verse, which is a bit glam rock, a bit sleazy prog blues with a hero bass line, and it's certainly a tidy way of summing up their intentions. There's a great mix of these more avant-garde displays of technical and rhythmic prowess – Devil's Due's fuzzy guitar solo and Crumbling Heart's manic Baroque-like circling of organ and guitars are subsequent examples – offset by the more restrained, almost melancholy haziness of Six Holes & A Ghost and Northbound. The latter half of the record is practically a mini concept album, and this is where the lads evoke the dramatic, cinematic grandeur hinted at previously.
DeWolff offer an album that rejoices in its garish love of pysch and prog, which clearly arrives from a genuine delight in living and breathing this classic sound.
