Dolorean - You Can’t Win

If hip-hop acts are the most in need of a back-story to keep their street cred intact, singer-songwriters are a close second. Why? Because there are so damn many of them. Some folk singers build a stage persona, talking about their small-town upbringing or their nomadic travels, all in an attempt to stand out when their music can’t do the job.

Al James, on the other hand, doesn’t posture, at least not in that sense. The mind and voice behind Portland’s Dolorean is a breath of fresh air. He simply writes great songs, the best singer-songwriter fare out of this city since Elliot Smith, and isn’t trying to fool anyone with a character or a gimmick.

Nowhere is this more apparent than the standout track from Dolorean’s latest album, You Can’t Win, a brief, solemnly strummed and sparsely sung tune titled “33-59.9 N/118-38.8 W.” The Beach Boys-esque harmonies are on purpose: the title of the song are the coordinates where founding member Dennis Wilson was buried at sea.

“33-59.9 N/118-38.8 W” is a break in the action on You Can’t Win. Even though the song has personal meaning, the subject is impersonal, and Al James is writing more biographically here than he has in the past. Where Dolorean’s last effort, 2004’s Violence In Snowy Fields, spoke of Biblical imagery (the title track, “The Search”) and bittersweet love songs (“Dying in Time,” “To Destruction”), You Can’t Win is about heartbreak and heartbreak only. I’m gonna hazard a guess and say something bad happened to Al.

Appropriately for the personal subject matter, You Can’t Win is more downbeat than its predecessor. “To Destruction” and “Violence in Snowy Fields” were the kind of simple, timeless pop you can play for your dad and know he’ll enjoy them, hearkening back to bands like America and The Band. You Can’t Win doesn’t have many of those songs, though “In Love With the Doubt” and “What One Bottle Can Do” come close.

But what You Can’t Win loses in songs my family will like, it makes up for in its poignancy and break-up bandage aesthetic.

For example, there’s the middle of the album when the dreamy “You Don’t Want To Know” strikes a wrenching chord as James sings, “You don’t want to know/You don’t want to know/If it’s 2 am and I’m not at home/You don’t want to know,” and you’re not sure if this was something he said at the end of a relationship, or something said to him. Immediately following, “Buffalo Gal” is the sort of song every songwriter thinks he can write, a slow and sad waltz, but rarely gets pulled off. Dolorean, from the brushed drums to the chorus melody, pulls it off.

Compared to Dolorean’s previous albums, You Can’t Win seems more complete and cohesive from beginning to end. Even the last track, which takes a while to click, James stashes great lines: “In my still life/Your face in the fruit appears/You’re everywhere, baby/In my bike ride/Your hips are the hills/I can’t escape you lately.” It’s nice to know not everyone’s a pretender.

For other Dolorean-related material on this site, check out the first interview we ever did, with Al James here and a review of Dolorean’s live show here.

To purchase or download a copy of this album, please visit Yep Roc Records.