Deserted halfway through his last tour Dave Doughman found himself at a pretty low point when his drummer, Don Thrasher, walked out on him, harsh, as there was only two of them to begin with. He may have picked up a new drummer at the very next stop, Joseph Siwinski, yet on this record you can tell the scars on Dave’s heart have not healed. (It Came) Out Of Nowhere is testament to the sense not of betrayal but of immense loss. The duo had been together recording since 1995 and without even a few words goodbye that may have softened the blow Thrasher just walked.
There is no hole left by Thrasher as Siwinski performs in the half-lazy style his forbear had and succinctly fits right on in. The title track hitches between stadium-pomp and a Smog ridden confessional. Doughman has the same ability as Callaghan, who in his Cassavettes snap-shots of life finds in a single line an exact moment of a relationship we have witnessed but find hard to describe. If anything this flag signals the half-glimpsed non-verbal communication that makes up the majority of relationships. Press The Number Three witnesses a friend calling an elevator and Dave relishing that he is about to take the elevator with her and no-one else. Seemingly ineffectual as a moment but has a greater weight to how it is than singing ‘you’re my bird, you are.’
Mixing rock, blues and country in Borrowed Red Bike and Room Full Of You, Doughman and Siwinski prove that less is more. An equation that has been obvious for most since the rise of The White Stripes and the underground acceptance of Modey Lemon, it just seems a shame that Swearing At Motorists has so far been passed over for matching red & white and sheer garage aggression.
Many of the songs here that are not concerned with losing a specific friend seem to reflect the sense of emptiness playing out months on the road. Drinking On The Roof and Leaving Adams Morgan even catches the dispiriting feeling of stopping at motorway service stations and roadside diners that replicate each other time after time. Dave’s songs have that kind of universality. If not directly the minutiae of sharing a room with someone then it is the sharing of a motor vehicle. More often it is the confined space alluded to that has Dave notice the smaller pieces of walking and talking that catches the finest details. When he sings ‘we’d stay up all night watching TV/Or go to the show for a drink,’ these are things we generally do but so often not think of. Here is compact rock and Faberge delicate love songs for those that rarely leave the sofa.