I originally posted a review of Morning Dove White by One Dove on 29th November 2006. I've revisited and expanded the original piece, hopefully losing none of the youthful ignorance along the way...
Pure and simple, one of the great lost bands and one of the most underrated albums of the 1990s. On paper, it’s hard to see how One Dove could fail. Emerging from Glasgow at the beginning of the decade, the trio of Dot Allison, Ian Carmichael and Jim McKinven seemed perfectly positioned to capitalise on the growing relationship between alternative pop, electronic experimentation and the club scene.
Their blend of dub-driven, club-friendly pop, shaped by Allison’s breathless, occasionally fragile vocals, caught the attention of Andrew Weatherall, whose own Sabres Of Paradise remixes had already established him as one of the most influential figures in British dance music. There was clearly something special brewing.
One Dove released their debut single, Fallen, in 1991 on Glasgow's Soma Records. Although a significant club hit, the single had to withdrawn a week after release following legal threats over an unlicensed harmonica sample (School by Supertramp, if you're wondering).
Hardly the most auspicious beginning, but One Dove persevered, and follow up Transient Truth garnered further critical attention. By the time White Love appeared, bringing with it radio play and wider exposure, One Dove had become one to watch.
Getting Andrew Weatherall on board to produce their debut album was an astute move, given his influence on Primal Scream’s seminal Screamadelica, though seemingly at odds with the increasingly commercial direction being pushed through their singles.
Whilst the extended 12-inch mixes continued to aim for the heart of the dancefloor, including jaw-dropping reworkings of White Love and Breakdown by Slam and Secret Knowledge (aka Kris Needs) respectively, Stephen Hague and William Orbit were also brought into the picture to deliver more radio-friendly interpretations. The latter approach toned down the bass, softened the production and, in places, left Allison’s frail vocals rather too exposed. On this basis, hardly a great incentive to buy the album.
Yet the story behind Morning Dove White is as complex as the music itself. Originally intended for release in 1992, the album was delayed for a full year following disputes between the band and their record company, after London Records took over Junior Boy's Own.
One Dove were unhappy with the increasing commercialisation of their sound and, understandably, reluctant to sacrifice the very qualities that had made them interesting in the first place. A compromise was eventually reached whereby they agreed to release singles mixed by Hague, provided they could work alongside him during the remix sessions. It was a rather uncomfortable arrangement, and one that arguably contributed to the band's subsequent disillusionment.
For all that, Morning Dove White - finally released in 1993 - remains one of Weatherall’s finest achievements and only hints at what this Scottish trio could have accomplished had they not been drained by record-industry politics.
Reaching #30 in the UK album chart, Morning Dove White deserved considerably more attention than it received, offering a fascinating mix of dub-heavy rhythms, melancholic pop and atmospheric experimentation. Andrew Weatherall's production gives the record an astonishing sense of space, allowing the music to expand rather than squeezing it into the conventional dance-pop structures.
The vinyl version spread the first nine tracks over four sides, but the CD provides the most complete listening experience, even if its additional radio mixes are something of a mixed blessing. The version of Fallen (sans Supertramp sample) which opens the album is breathtaking, establishing an almost hypnotic atmosphere that complements Weatherall’s ten-minute Guitar Paradise Mix of White Love. The latter is a particularly impressive piece of work, gradually building its layers of percussion, bass and shimmering guitar into something that feels simultaneously euphoric and deeply introspective. I still remember hearing this version booming out of the speakers in my local record shop, the first time I heard One Dove and an unforgettable experience.
Breakdown follows with another superbly constructed, dub-inflected arrangement, the Cellophane Boat Mix providing a satisfying experience that reveals new details with every play, which could pretty much apply to every track on the album.
There Goes The Cure and Sirens continue the album's wonderfully languid progression, demonstrating that One Dove were capable of creating compelling music without relying on the immediate gratification of a dancefloor-friendly chorus. There is an almost dreamlike quality to these recordings, with Allison's vocals floating above the instrumentation rather than competing with it.
Lord Sabre’s influence threatens to subsume the band's identity only once, with instrumental My Friend sounding more like a Sabres Of Paradise outtake than One Dove. However, even here, it's difficult to fault the atmospherix soundscape, and it's inclusion gives Morning Dove White an additional dimension.
Transient Truth leads another lengthy excursion into dub territory, whilst last song proper Why Don't You Take Me offers one of the record's most affecting moments. At times, the latter evokes Black's maudlin classic Wonderful Life, showcasing Allison's reflective songwriting and emotional vulnerability. It is a quality she would develop to considerable effect on her subsequent solo albums, but there is something particularly compelling about hearing it in this earlier, more electronically adventurous setting.
The vinyl album closes with White Love (Piano Reprise), a suitably understated conclusion to the main sequence. I bought the CD, which rather spoils the effect by tacking Stephen Hague's radio mixes of White Love and Breakdown to the end. They were fine enough on the singles, but their inclusion on Morning Dove White feels particularly unnecessary after the preceding hour of wonderfully immersive music. From a historical perspective, they are an uncomfortable reminder of the commercial compromises that surrounded the album's creation.
Though Morning Dove White sadly turned out to be their sole album release, One Dove were not entirely finished creatively. For the B-sides of Why Don't You Take Me, the group expanded into a five-piece with percussionist Eddie Higgins and guitarist Colin McIlroy, exploring an even more heavily dub-influenced sound, including a wonderful reworking of Dolly Parton's Jolene.
The expanded line-up subsequently entered the studio to begin work on a second album, but the familiar frustrations of record-industry politics eventually took their toll. The sessions remained unfinished, and the band split in 1996. You can hear what might have been on Soundcloud, and it's pretty wonderful.
It's tempting to wonder what might have happened had One Dove been allowed to follow their own instincts, rather than accommodate the increasing demands of a record company. One Dove's combination of dub, electronic experimentation and distinctive vocals was ahead of its time, anticipating elements of the downtempo and trip-hop sounds that became fashionable a few years later.
Provided you skip Stephen Hague's radio mixes of Breakdown and White Love on the CD, I challenge you not to fall in love with Morning Dove White after a single listen. It remains an extraordinary document of a brief moment when club culture and alternative pop were capable of producing something genuinely distinctive. If you don't fall for it, then check your pulse, because I suspect you may be dead.
On that rather tacky ending, I leave you with One Dove's final single, Why Don't You Take Me, courtesy of Ian Carmichael. I've never seen the video before and it's a wonderful thing.
