A couple of days into their tour with The Black Keys, Philly’s ramshackle ambassadors Dr. Dog had an off day after a Chicago show and so, on a mild Sunday, they drove to us and when we found them, they were tossing a football around the deserted bar district, pedestrian mall near the studio. They looked like a brethren of drifters, a pack of artists roughing it up for a cause. One of Toby Leaman’s biodegradable shoes – which he got free at SXSW the year before and was supposed to bury when he was done with them – had a gaping hole in the toes, looking worse for wear after a concentrated chewing from a starving beast that never actually happened. They looked the parts of amicability and weekends lost in blurs or star-gazing brightness. The first song they chose to play for us should be the cornerstone of their next record – whenever they get to it. That’s putting the cart before the horse since their newest batch of sterling pop (_We All Belong on Park The Van Records) doesn’t come out until next week. It’s a song that’s capable of snuggling, but just as ready and willing to throw a coursing of direct current at you. It’s exuberance and contemplation that share the same bed, and it’s nearly the same story for all of their workings – not just “From,” which is arguably the band’s finest five minutes. Their love for cheeriness (and love) never interferes with their love of allowing the converse – a realist’s voice – to influence just as poetically, involving just as powerfully the notion that all of this could fly the coop at the next daybreak. It’s easiest to see the band for what it’s worth by spending a day with them. They’re the most genuinely memorable and gentle gents you’ll ever what to meet and even in seeing this, there’s an acknowledgement of golden oldness in them, some dash of antiquity that doesn’t take you back to ancient times, just to the effervescent beginnings of rock and roll, when the purity of spirit was truly on display and it was being showcased because it felt right – not because there was money or broads to be won. They stayed the night on my floor, telling me that old tourmates Vietnam were “always up to something.” I watched as guitarist Frank McElroy – who got Mr. T to record his voice mail message some years back and it’s jealousy-inducing how rad it is – went straight to my bookshelf and pulled out Brian Wilson’s autobiography to skim through. He did that with other books as well, seemingly insatiable. Vocalist Scott McMicken commented on the mustard-colored walls of my living room and then – while everyone slept – he drew and colored a rendering of our residence that he left stealthily on the table as they left. I saw it and thanked him. He had hoped to have gotten away without anyone noticing it, wanting it to be “a Highway To Heaven kind of thing.” I caught up with them in St. Louis the following weekend – making my way over terribly snow and ice-covered highways – and saw them wearing the same clothes. That’s the Dog we know and love. – Sean Moeller

Song descriptions provided by the incomprable Scott McMicken!!

First song
From (Dr. Dog) [4.69MB] [6034 downloads]


– unreleased
The only Dr. Dog song to date that is defined mostly by our efforts not to know how to play it. The lyrics are equally as desperate. Much can be had in not having.

Second song
I Can't Fly (Dr. Dog) [4.99MB] [5603 downloads]


– original version appears on Toothbrush
A blue song with a lot of frosting. It’s a recipe for cake where the sugar was subbed out for salt. Simply put – bitter sweet. It’s “From’s” big brother, and it’s what punctuated one of my life’s most unpleasant sentences.

Third song
Ain't It Strange (Dr. Dog) [4.36MB] [5274 downloads]


– original version appears on We All Belong
“I Can’t Fly” is a song of songs. It’s a statement of the obvious and the murder of a fantasy. It was recorded in the season of Uncle Mark and it is a rare example of Toby on guitar.

Fourth song
Worst Trip (Dr. Dog) [2.81MB] [5277 downloads]


– original version appears on We All Belong
“Worst Trip” is some real expensive food that began its life as some real rotten yoo-hoo. It has, however, aged more gracefully than any other Dr. Dog song to date. It told us when it was ready. It told us when it was done and it held both of our hands as we walked standing on its feet. It’s a rebellious song that’s making has nothing in common with what it suggests about life.