You could tell they were tired. It was the last day of Dr. Dog’s longest tour to date, and that morning they were still drinking beer when some people are sipping their first cup of java.

WERS was bustling that Friday. If people weren’t rushing to set up equipment, they were finalizing plans for a quickly approaching Live Music Week, in which the station would host nearly 40 in-studio performances. Everybody was busy, except the members of Dr. Dog. In front of a bright window looking out on Boston Common sat Scott McMicken, Toby Leaman, Zach Miller, Juston Stens and Frank McElroy, quietly staring at the floor. Calm, unassuming and passive, Leaman had the reflective expression of someone waiting for a train home.

“You’re all from Philadelphia, right?” I asked, trying to spark a conversation with the band. Their blank faces grew alert, and Leaman, wearing a plaid shirt and blue beanie, said he grew up outside of the city, in West Grove, Pa. Being a Chester County native myself, I made small talk about familiar towns and schools. When I mentioned that their new album, “Fate,” was July’s WERS Album of the Month, they grew humbly delighted.

It’s good they take compliments well. Since touring with My Morning Jacket in 2004, bloggers and music critics have praised the band, and, according to a July Philadelphia Inquirer article, even Lou Reed has called them his new favorite group. But recognition didn’t always come easily for Dr. Dog. They played for five years largely unknown. Until recently, their fan base didn’t generate enough money for the group to spend on hotel rooms while touring, so they usually stayed with the first person to offer them a place to crash, says Leaman. This rambling lifestyle brought them many friends, and also a few situations they would rather forget.

“There have been a lot of houses we’ve just straight up left,” says Leaman.

Luckily for Dr. Dog, the success of their last few albums gave them the luxury of two hotel rooms for most stops on their latest tour.

“We’re not couch surfing anymore,” Leaman says.

Around 1:30 p.m., Dr. Dog began setting up for their performance. Despite their lack of sleep, they became vivacious and sprightly as soon as they started warming up. They love playing, and it shows. When WERS in-studio host James Clark started his interview with the band at 2:30 p.m., keyboardist Zach Miller was noticeably anxious to play. If you listened closely, you could hear ambient sounds leading into their first song, “The Breeze,” for 30 seconds before the song’s commencement.

Then, after a few words with the DJ, the rest of the band joined in, and McMicken sang: “Are you moving/ much to fast/ and the good times/ that just don’t last/ if you’re always on the go/ put that needle to the groove/ and sing.”

Their live performance of the song was slightly nuanced at the bridge, sung by Leaman instead of McMicken. Leaman, who had been sipping on a licorice-based soar throat remedy he bought from Whole Foods, sounded extra raspy, and deep: “Are there dark parts to your mind/ hidden secrets left behind/ if no one ever goes/ but everybody knows.” He could have sung anything and it would have sounded profound. Really, the lyrics could have been about cheese dip, dental floss, non-stick frying pans—anything really—and Leaman’s voice would still give you chills.

Between songs, Scott McMicken talked about choosing their new album’s title. “Like many things with Dr. Dog, it sort of started with no real purpose or intent, and then quickly became full of purpose and intent,” McMicken said. “We tend to gravitate toward things on a real basic level, like: ‘Yeah, that sounds cool, I like that … I can envision that,’ and then once you’re comfortable with it on that level you start to create meaning.”

Everything gained a purpose, including the album’s artwork. The painting of Bonnie and Clyde featured on the cover is by Ken Ellis, a bartender at a Chicago joint called The Rainbow Club. As fate would have it, Dr. Dog noticed the painting upon stumbling into the bar, and asked Ellis who made it. They bought it, and the original painting, which is almost life size, hangs in the band’s Philadelphia studio.

Leaman sang the second song, “Ancients.” Screaming wildly, he evoked Joe Cocker, and one of his influences, Tom Waits. We were hearing the loud, unrestrained bark of the Dog, and by this time, a crowd of people were gathered outside on the sidewalk, peering into the station through the windows. Leaman’s speaking voice was noticeably rattled after belting out the final notes of “Ancients.” Before starting another song, McMicken talked about the band’s songwriting process. He said about half of their songs are old, sometimes going back six or seven years, and the rest are new. “In my brain,” McMicken said, “it gives a sense of variety because you’ve got these songs that you wrote when you were a completely different person than you are now next to these songs you wrote yesterday.” It was somewhat coincidental that McMicken talked about using old songs as he led into the third and final track of the performance, “Old Days.” The lyrics begin: “Let go of the old ones/ we’ve got some new ones/ hold on to the good stuff and let go/ and get real tough.”

After Dr. Dog finished, they packed up their van and took their instruments to the Middle East in Cambridge, ending their tour with San Diego band Delta Spirit. They start their European tour on October 30.

drdogmusic.com

This article was originally published on WERS.org, October 12, 2008