On their recent UK tour, The Darkness did a really good job of justifying why it’s worth them sticking around. Despite a multitude of albums that will always be compared to their landmark Permission To Land—and always subsequently underwhelm for it—there’s an enthusiasm and love of the game that, in close quarters, has truckloads of charm. That even extends to a big chunk of Dreams On Toast pre-release but in the set anyway. The bravado of Justin Hawkins and co. and the classic rockstar posture they continue to embody gives The Darkness a real boost.
Removed from the flesh-and-bone presence of its creators, however, Dreams On Toast isn’t much of anything special. It certainly feels like a late-period The Darkness album, grasping somewhat for a return to semi-parodic, not-too-serious glam-rock in which they made their name, but feeling its age almost every step of the way. They lean into that on Mortal Dread, a song about getting old that’s suitably inflexible, and demonstrates why this precise archetype of band should just not do that. The jabs and jokes only write themselves as a result, about how The Darkness are washed-up and past-it, and struggling to achieve much of anything substantive or worthwhile on this new album.
To their credit, their awareness of that makes Walking Through Fire the album’s best song, though on the proviso that it’s in tandem with their aforementioned enthusiasm. Their self-deprecating lines are simply funnier on their own (“don’t even think my mum bought the last one” is a highlight), but the accompanying sincerity about the love of making music is what ultimately swings it around. Conversely, Rock And Roll Party Cowboy is a song that so many ageing rockers would make straight-faced as their last gasp for relevance from an equally moth-eaten audience, so the expectation of it being a parody just isn’t enough. Where The Darkness can toe the line between the genuine and the jumped-up, this—a stodgy, simple list of contextless rock ‘n’ roll ‘things’—isn’t sincere or audacious enough to satisfy either. The ideal state for The Darkness is a mixture of both, and Dreams On Toast can really struggle to find a comfortable spot. Admittedly it’s much worse when they lean towards the ‘comedy band’ tag that’s often been ascribed to them but is rarely that accurate. If it were, they’d probably be aiming higher than Hot On My Tail’s extended fart joke.
Instead, the safer bet to making this ‘humour’ work is leaving it to Justin Hawkins’ delivery, with his propensity for ridiculous falsetto notes and a British accent that’s always been a weird but not-charmless fit for this type of rock. Dreams On Toast finds him away from peak ostentatiousness, but still bearing those same qualities and reaping similar rewards from them. A dearth of standout lines is made up for by the overall tone and mood, where the forthrightness of classic pop on Don’t Need Sunshine or Cold Hearted Woman is balanced on the awkwardness of a voice that doesn’t really fit into any circumstance cleanly. That’s clearly the point though, and even a more middle-brow, milquetoast version of The Darkness can achieve something from that.
But that’s sort of the issue with Dreams On Toast as a whole—it’s a middle-brow, milquetoast version of The Darkness, which yanks out the best parts of them on principle alone. Does the band who made I Believe In A Thing Called Love or Growing On Me or even Love Is Only A Feeling feel conducive to Don’t Need Sunshine, a prim-and-proper soft-rock tune characterised most by its pianos and coiffed vocal harmonies? Sure, those songs came out over 20 years ago, but they’re not impossible to make work today; The Battle For Gadget Land does it fairly well. Instead, Dreams On Toast positions one of its main musical thrust to take inspiration from old BBC sitcom themes. Pianos are primarily used to tinkle and dance about, like on Mortal Dread’s bridge or the own-brand Mr. Blue Sky that is The Longest Kiss. Elsewhere, the quaint folksiness of Hot On My Tail and Cold Hearted Woman is just as edgeless and toned-down. If all of this is to cover for some pretty rote, by-the-numbers rock cuts that betray The Darkness’ ageing status at a rate of knots, the result is a nicer sonic palette and little else.
Honestly, if it is pure enjoyment that’s propelling The Darkness these days, you almost have to wonder where that’s coming from. Dreams On Toast isn’t the kind of album that’s forged as a true passion project; it’s too small and conservative for that. And while there’s not nothing to like about it, it’s about as fleeting as most of what The Darkness have put their name to over the years. Granted, personal preference is the name of the game, and it says a lot that when The Darkness do confront their waning commerciality, they don’t come across as bitter or petulantly coping. But that also reinforces the toothlessness of Dreams On Toast, and how miniscule of a move it feels. At least there’s still the promise of the live show, even though that’s about all The Darkness have nowadays.
For fans of: Jet, Ash, Kaiser Chiefs
‘Dreams On Toast’ by The Darkness is released on 28th March on Cooking Vinyl Limited.
Words by Luke Nuttall
Tell me you haven’t got a clue about the band nor their audience without telling me.
Sounds like someone loves the sound of their own voice more than any other album previously released. I got half way through this overly long drivel and zoned out.
As much as wish the album was 3 or 4 songs longer, I love the album. I think venturing out into different genres shows a willingness to experiment, all while maintaining their tongue in cheek sense of humor. The guitar work is inspired and the varied instrumentation adds to that feeling of coloring outside of the lines. Love the album, but I want more! Don’t wait 4 years to record the next one boys, and if possible, come tour in the US!