What do you do after you’ve created one of your home country’s most successful millennial albums? Stir the pot and serve up more jams, of course. Dr. Boondigga and the Big BW, a fine slice of 2009 by New Zealand’s Fat Freddy’s Drop, is a wonderfully varied work filled with soul, dub, reggae, and a little electronica thrown in to spice things up.
Based on a True Story put Fat Freddy’s Drop on the map, as great albums do for the artists who make them. Despite the immense pressure on the group to make another classic, you won’t see any hint of that stress on Dr. Boondigga and the Big BW, although taking four years to release an album points to more deliberate motions than you might think. The album deftly avoids being a sound-alike by being composed of 9 completely different tracks, each with its own joys.
“Big BW” opens the album with soulful vocals, heavy bass footsteps, adventurous synthesizers and a relaxed tempo. I consider it brave to begin an album with a track as smooth and relaxed as this. Rather than launching straight into one of the more upbeat numbers at hand, “Big BW” sets the tone and introduces the album rather than consuming it.
The ten-and-a-half minute “Shiverman” encapsulates one of the central ideas of Dr. Boondigga. Several of the pieces here use their length to develop new ideas, a hallmark of bands with a history of live jams. Many such live developments don’t transfer well to production, but here they flow invisibly and seamlessly. If that weren’t enough, “Shiverman” is almost like an instruction manual on how to make house music with live instruments. Using the length of the track to great effect, a sort of paranoiac eccentricity is built on top of vocalist Joe Dukes’ incessant intonations and slithering digital delay: “shake that shiverman/hairs on the back stand…” Definitely worth the entire length.
“Boondigga” charts a course through emotional longing built on saxophone melodies and deep keyboards before reducing to a driving German-influenced beat and a dense, nervous energy that builds until reaching a conclusive echo. “The Raft” chases a reggae beat, while “The Camel” exudes soul before finishing with more quirky synthesizers. I really enjoy the analog synths on this record; they are a bit silly at times, but in truth, they embody the playful spirit of the record and show the growth of the band over the years between this record and the last. “The Nod” hearkens back to the first record with its bouncy beat, vocal sections, inviting lyrics and saxophone antics. “Breakthrough,” featuring an extended intro that recalls Talk Talk‘s Laughing Stock, closes with a plea for contentedness in life.
The album’s title reputedly refers to the band’s horror at the thought of being signed to a major label. If things go this swimmingly without a major label, don’t sweat it. Labels don’t usually let bands take their time between releases anyway, and I get the feeling that Fat Freddy’s Drop albums have to slow cook. No problem, fellas–we hope to see you again in another four years.





