Dr. Dog
Sometimes I just want to watch a classicist rock band do their thing really well, and Dr. Dog are perfect for that. For years now, I’ve had friends who have been telling me how great the band is live, but I’ve somehow always missed the chance to catch one of their shows. Even going in with this high praise in the back of my mind, Dr. Dog exceeded my expectations. They were the first band I saw on Friday, the second day of the festival and one already hanging with that stench of mud and human filth that usually crops up on a festival’s final day. Dr. Dog were the perfectly ragged thing for it, every jam feeling born of the swampiness itself, first lingering in the thick humidity and then seeming to call on the storm clouds that threatened but never broke. Between the one-two opening of “These Days” and “That Old Black Hole,” and an excellent closer with “Lonesome,” the set felt Be The Void-dominated, which probably made me appreciate it more; it’s my favorite of their records, which I believe ranks me in the minority amongst Dr. Dog fans, but whatever it’s a great album. Every now and then I’ll throw it on while walking around New York on a warm day, and up until now that was the extent of my devotion to Dr. Dog. After Friday, I’ve realized they’re one of those bands where I like their albums, but hadn’t seen the whole picture. They’re ten times better live, and I can’t wait to see them again.