The Dutchess & the Duke, She’s the Dutchess, He’s the Duke

Damn, this album makes me want to hit the secondhand record store & dig out some Animals, Rolling Stones, and Byrds albums. And no, I don’t mean that as a slam, some way to say that Seattle duo The Dutchess & the Duke (known to friends and family as Kimberly Morrison and Jesse Lortz, respectively, and formerly in a bunch of garage-y/retro-y bands I’m unfortunately not real familiar with) are derivative of those bands — although that’s certainly somewhat accurate — and therefore should be ignored. Not a chance.

What I mean is that the whole of She’s the Dutchess, He’s the Duke is one of those discs that so fully encapsulates the ’60s sound that it’s impossible to not think of it when you listen. It’s not just the songs themselves, either, but the production; there’s this earthy, raw feeling to all of it, like it was recorded in an earlier, less technologically-savvy, rougher era and dropped off back here in the present to be mastered and released and all that. There’s a strange familiarity to the album, like you know you know the songs these songs sound like, but you can’t quite put your mental finger on it.

That’s where I am with “Strangers,” in particular — the back-and-forth melody sounds so freakin’ familiar that it’s killing me that I don’t remember where the heck I’ve heard it before. There’s a hint of the Byrds, a bit of the Monkees, and a fair dose of the Stones, all melded together into an urgent, speedy two minutes’ worth of brutal post-relationship honesty that dares you to sing along with lines like “You fucked me in the phone booth / You know you took me by surprise.” Morrison and Lortz’s beautifully harmonizing voices swing and sway a la the Mamas & the Papas, the pretty melody camouflaging the grim lyrics beneath.

And really, that’s the most interesting aspect of this album, not that it’s a straight-up ’60s homage but that it’s really, really fucking dark, in spite of some of those sweet melodies. I mean, the duo throws out convoluted song-stories about abusive parents (“Mary”), sordid (and apparently somewhat anonymous) sex (“Strangers”), disillusionment with life in general (“Out of Time”), death (“You Can Tell The Truth, Now”), and tons of love-gone-wrong (pick one). Which is really awesome, to me, because it makes the music so much more than simple rehashing of oldies radio favorites and more closely connected to real life.

I’ve opined before that we — Americans in general, that is — tend to have rose-colored glasses when it comes to the music of the ’60s, viewing the whole era as hippy-dippy “fun” music that’s great at parties but doesn’t really matter a whole lot, content-wise. I’m guilty of this, for sure, and I’d guess that a lot of folks in my generation (X, Why, whatever) are in the same boat; it’s Mom & Dad Music, so it obviously has no relevance to me in the here and now, right? It’s only as an adult that it clicked what the hell folks like the Rolling Stones, the Who, the Byrds, and even the Beach Boys were singing about, and that even the most outwardly lightweight musicians of the time were capable of some dark, dark shit. It wasn’t all vapid pop about girls, not by a long shot.

I think that’s part of why She’s the Dutchess, He’s the Duke has got me so firmly in its grasp right now. I love rolling along with the melancholy, Dylan-esque folk (“You Can Tell The Truth, Now”; “Ship Made of Stone”), the faster, sitar(?)-inflected Stones-y numbers (“Reservoir Park,” which I swear to God sounds just like “Paint It, Black” at points; “The Prisoner,” which makes me think of the Animals), and the mid-range, almost country tracks (“Out of Time,” which includes the best, most cynical line in the album: “Ain’t you sick of hearin’ things are gonna work out?”). They’re amazingly well-crafted songs, the kind that suck you in with the jangly guitars and warm vocals and then sucker-punch you with lyrics that make your jaw drop like the first time you realized what Springsteen’s “Nebraska” was about (I know, I’m a little slow on the uptake).

The funny thing here is that growing up I hated the music my parents — well, my dad, really; my mom had the Shaft soundtrack and some really cool Sly & the Family Stone albums I’ve always liked — played around the house. I loathed it, avoided it at all costs. And only in the last decade or so have I really been re-evaluating that kneejerk reaction, both to music actually from back then and music, like The Dutchess & the Duke, that’s current and new but definitely informed by the older stuff. In doing that, I’ve been finding stuff like this winding its way inexorably into my soul.

Hmm. Looking back, I think I’m overdue to make my dad a mixtape; the Dutchess & the Duke are definitely going on it.