New Orleans-based Conor Donohue has a penchant for eschewing specific genre classification, dealing instead in a smorgasbord of pop, indie, rock, electronic, and country, all basted in a vague Americanaesque vibe. The songs on his third album, Stray Dogs, appear to be from a storied life, one keen on picking up observations and redigesting them into an art form. The execution here appeals to the everyperson, with relatable lyrics that play with cliches both earnestly and ironically. There's also a communal essence to proceedings, with long-time collaborators Tyler Ross on lap steel, Ron Wiltrout on drums, and George Barraeis on bass fleshing out Donohue's folkish yarns.
Producers Joel T. Hamilton and Emily Eck also add to the project in numerous ways. Hamilton's relationship with Donohue goes back to 2011, when the pair penned "Elephants", a track they've revisited on, Stray Dogs, thirteen years later, producing a dreamy psychedelic folk song that's as innocently fun as it is shaker-heavy. It's a well-intentioned song ("We take our mistakes and turn them into love"), and its positive mood shines through. Eck, on the other hand, lends sonic trickery via reversed Wurlitzer on "Shape Of Your Hand", a saccharine tune ("I'll always love you through thick and thin") that redeems itself with a jovial jauntiness, exotic slide guitar, and Eck's hallucinogenic keys.
Highpoints on this album include "Franklin & Royal", which see groovy drums, minimal bass and keys, and self-revelatory lyrics ("I ain't trying to go home") merge into something quietly lovely and loudly inspirational, "River", a timeless campfire ballad, the lyrics of which don't hold back on emotionalism ("Take the cancer cells you hold, and those years you were on parole, and leave them at the river.") but ultimately positively connect with the listener, and the closing "Apocalypse Industry", the standout for this reviewer, with its merging of electronic and handmade beats and its sweet melody yielding thoughtful lyrics on the woes of sustaining positive mental health in a modern world that seems to be conspiring against us.
Donohue's vocals are mostly characteristic and likeable throughout, though the occasional double-tracked vocals make an otherwise excellent and memorable tune like the titular "Stray Dogs", with its heavy-handed lines ("When was the last time you thought about God?") a tad indirect. It's a constant challenge to retain the soul of a song when the temptation of student magic is so accessible. Donohue mostly avoids overindulging. The opening, "Wasteland", delivers goodtime soft rock pleasantries, "Wait..." is an effortlessly romantic affair that simulates a late-summer breeze, and "Feel That Hit" is a short burst of summery intentions delivered with snappy minimal percussion, a barn-dance-riff, and manic vocals that find moments of release through successive "yeah"'s.
Other takes, such as the disco bounce-infused "Sciatica", never quite find their footing between danceable and quirky. Likewise, "Hold On To That Feeling" creates much tension in its frenetic instrumentation and vocal cries but never quite finds release.
Stray Dogs by Conor Donohue is a full-bodied collection of anything-goes songs with an amiable approach and convincing spirit. If you're a fan of well-penned and thoughtful art pop served with experimental flair, this breezy album will amuse you with its oddities and satisfy you with some good old-fashioned songwriting.
★★★½