Dukes of Windsor - Minus (Album)

After enlisting the help of esteemed Swedish producers Pelle Henriccson and Eskil Lövström, Melbourne quintet Dukes of Windsor have returned to our shores with their sophomore album Minus in hand. Aptly named it seems, as the lads had to withstand below-zero temperatures of the Nordic winter to work in the Tonteknik Studios, a reformed lunatic asylum no less. With this second effort the Dukes are out to forge their own name for themselves, as it was the handiwork of TV Rock’s remix of their track The Others two years earlier that earned them overnight recognition. Whilst the album’s release was anticipated to closely follow the debut of lead single It’s A War in May, the boys held off for several months to “let it build up for a while”. So was it worth the wait?

Minus kicks off on the right note, so to speak. Opener to the album No Disguise is haunting in both its lyrical imagery of destitution and desolation and high-pitched vocal histrionics. Weaving employs his earlier operatic training to dramatically deliver verse and chorus to the listener. Second up, radio-friendly Evil Woman is evidence of the pop sensibility inherent in this album. The edgy disco feel is a favourable mix of dancey drumbeats and simplistic guitar riffs. The Dukes combined with Henriccson and Lövström for the writing of Runaway, so one would presume this to be the stand out number for Minus. Aside from the funk heavy bass, I found it to be rather bland both musically and vocally. An under-the-radar track that is far too commercial for my liking. Just as well the boys reassert their strength in the anthemic lead single ‘It’s a War’, follow up to their over-popularised The Others. This one is eerily reminiscent of George Orwell’s 1984, of “a boot stomping on a human face – forever”. The military-like march is juxtaposed with Weaver’s confronting lyrics and monotonous verses. It seems like the Dukes are building up to what could possibly be a powerful album. To the contrary, this is where Minus reaches its full potential.

Land of Strangers and Snowlights are more down-tempo numbers, diverging from the Dukes’ characteristic incessant beats that punctuate the record with meandering guitar effects and wispy words. Crystal’s Getting High is three minutes and twenty-four seconds of fluff obviously intended to fill out the album. Reminds me of something you’d be likely to find on the OC soundtrack. The lads attempt to make a comeback with the persuasive bass and effects and catchy stuck-in-your-head-all-day lyrics of ‘Refuse’, but it’s just a bit too little, too late. Weaving’s voice is both his strength and his downfall it seems, as its distinctive urgency leaves a repetitive feel to this record.

"Individually, there are a handful of tracks that stand well on their own and have potential as solid live tracks. In its entirety, ‘Minus’ comes off sounding all too generic and verging on pop

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