If you told me a year ago I'd be standing outside a hundred deep in line to see Dr. fucking Dog . . . it's just that nothing makes sense. The band's from Philly, for one, not the U.K., and their sort of nasally lo-fi bumpkin-pop doesn't sound anything like the slick and scrappy dance-rock that audiences this attractive tend to go for. Band members' beards grow not out of choice but neglect, and chances are the lead guitarist was wearing those cheap sunglasses for medical reasons. Dr. Dog! Three of their songs are Steely Dan... More >>>