The Darkness are known for imbuing glam metal with homespun English kitsch, fuelled by Justin Hawkins’ piercing, polished falsettos and buzz-saw guitar riffs. A riff-driven band, the Darkness benefit from Rufus Tiger Taylor’s tom-tom heavy drums, and Frankie Poullain’s rubbery basslines. Their musical acumen was never in doubt, but their determination to write novelty songs, laced in Queen‘s imprint, helped distinguish them from their British contemporaries for much of the 21st century. Dreams on Toast coasts on this trajectory, continuing the familiar formula for their eighth record..
Where Queen opted to change direction for their eighth effort, repurposing themselves as a sophisti-pop outfit to fit the 1980s, the Darkness show no interest in stripping their sound back, which is evident from their stomping opener “Rock and Roll Party Cowboy”. A barrelling rocker, it’s as much a pastiche of heavy metal as it glorifies it. Hawkins lets out a Robert Plant-esque falsetto during the chorus, proving the band is as open to fun as they were on their excellent 2003 debut.
Unfortunately, the Darkness’ disinterest in evolution doesn’t sit well in other parts of the record, and their shortcomings are evident on the brass-oriented “I Hate Myself”. “I hate myself so you don’t have to,” Hawkins croons over a cascade of guitars, drums, and saxophones; an odd combination of Phil Spector-esque instrumentation and introspection.
Acoustic number “Hot on My Tail” suffers from an overload of sonics, as the drums pound harder and heavier over the fragile vocal melody. Despite the jauntiness, “Cold Hearted Woman” proves to be a shallow exercise in human relations, casting the female protagonist as a harlot tempting her lover with sweet nothings and sex.
“The Longest Kiss”, complete with piano splatters and idiosyncratic vocal scats, succeeds as a throwback to the 1970s, as if writing a pop-rock ballad in the style of Sparks‘ Ron and Russell Mael. The soaring chorus heard in “Mortal Dread” will work on the live scene when the Darkness undoubtedly perform select highlights from the work. Hawkins soldiers on with the vocals, delivering an impressive array of deliveries. However, the impish monologue heard throughout “The Battle For Gadget Land” (perhaps modelled on shock-rock progenitor Arthur Brown) is misguided.
The opening track notwithstanding, Dreams on Toast is noteworthy for including “Don’t Need Sunshine”, a tender hymn espousing the virtues found on the earth. “I don’t need a woman to behave like a man,” Hawkins sings, momentarily absolving him from the misogynistic inflections that dot “Cold Hearted Woman”.
Behind the imagery stands a person clamouring through his existence, searching for a satisfaction he couldn’t gleam from “one hundred pairs of shoes”. In terms of lyrics, it’s an area Hawkins would be wise to explore if he ever writes a solo album. On this occasion, the presence of Poullain and Taylor proves superfluous to the song. Behind the facade stands a songwriting bolstered by raw nerve.
It’s a pity much of the record abandons gravitas for pub-rock grooves, and with the two-punch finale “Walking Through Fire” and “Weekend in Rome”, Dreams on Toast ends on a predictably fiery note. What surprises are heard on this record are few and far between, but hardcore fans will enjoy the grandeur and sense of ceremony that cements it.
Queen’s imprint has always been evident in the Darkness: bulldozing riffs, flamboyant vocals, and preposterous lyrics. However, “Don’t Need Sunshine” proves there is more to the group than their positions as Brian May disciples, and I, for one, would care to hear this intimate side, whether it comes out as a band album or a Justin Hawkins solo work.