Part-time chillers and full-time shredders, Dear Doonan have released their highly anticipated second album. It’s called Temple of Doon, a reference to the Eastern flavours of their heavily instrumental and experimental choices. Pun intended, we predict.
Sunshine Coast’s rhythmic riders Dear Doonan have released their second album Temple of Doon; an adventurous and ardently diversified body of work.
Second albums tend to be more pressurised than the first, a result of wrestling with the weight of expectation. Yet the follow up to Dear Doonan’s crunchy and sun-drenched first album is more meditative and oscillating with narrative. Each of the seven tracks are an experience and a largely lyric-less passage to the next.
The opener and tone-setter is Sweet Quiche, and its a clangy, riff-ridden track. It switches back and forth between two main threads, much like the duality of a Khruangbin track. Yet where the married harmony of a Khruangbin song can sit into a lackadaisical pace, Dear Doonan are audacious.
The instructional language of Jane Says rolls out like a folk law mantra. It’s a simple and easily digested surf-psych tune, preparing you for what for what’s to come. Dear Doonan let you have your dessert first in the Temple of Doon. Papaya is one of the album’s most expansive and outward-looking tracks. It’s humorous and welcomes a child-like innocence whilst maintaining its Turkish-funk.
The album also includes a two-part film. Part one is Huddi; a spiritually stirring and rousing reverie. At three-and-a-half minutes it’s the album’s briefest story to tell. Woozy moments open up and bombastic riffs move forward. The bass never lets up and before you know it you’re sinking right on into the trumpets and Texan whistles of the nearly-nine-minute Hirado. Kill Bill 1 and 2.
Temple of Doon is multilingual; featuring the sitar, the Turkish baglama, brass instruments and a plethora of strings and percussion. The quintet of talent amongst these boys is palpable. The band is led by the dextrous Zachariah Norton and produced by both Paulie Bromley and the bands own multi-instrumentalist Steve Summers. Their craftsmanship showcased no better than in the finale that is How Do You See?. It’s a celebration with literal ‘woo!’ moments and a cacophony of sounds. It’s the kind of song you’d imagine written by a group of bearded nomads upon facing boundless horizon.
We’re all desperate to smell the sweat and stale beer at our favourite live venues again. But until that time, light some incense or whatever else inspires you, and worship at the Temple of Doon.
Listen to the album below:
