DMA’s - MTV Unplugged Live

The MTV Unplugged albums are a curio; most acts worth their salt have performed on what is first and foremost a TV show, and by extension that makes it a promotional obligation.

A musical outfit release an album. To increase sales of said album they are required to promote it. If they are deemed to be worthy, they are offered a slot on MTV Unplugged. The most significant Unplugged album is undoubtedly Nirvana’s, now regarded as a key part of their canon. But others have also fared well; Eric Clapton and Paul McCartney regained some critical respectability in doing so. Although never unplugged, the concept is designed as such to give them the opportunity to demonstrate the gentler side of their oeuvre.

In DMA’s case, the side is fragility. The Australians have a burgeoning reputation as a lad’s band, one which does them something of a disservice. Lyrically, there has always been a romantic, wistful element, but it’s often drowned in their Britpop inflected sound; stripping that away and laying the songs bare brings the tenderness front and centre.

In fact, the boisterousness that the band are associated with is nowhere to be found on this album. Their chat between songs, which granted may have been judiciously edited for release, amounts to about ten words, all of them humble.

Opener ‘Feels Like 37’ acts as a good barometer for the rest of the set/album, the gentle picking of the winding acoustic providing a winsomeness and weary air. Subsequent tracks ‘Lay Down’ and ‘Time & Money’ continue in this vein, with the piano solo at the end of the latter evoking real melancholy. The drums don’t appear until ‘Emily Whyte’ and are reinforced by a string section and slide guitar which are peppered sparingly throughout the rest of the set. Meanwhile, the ivories on ‘The End’ morph it into a kitchen sink drama and add real emphasis to the bridge on ‘Health’.

The Madchester guitar tones the boys specialise in are brought to the fore on ‘Warsaw’, while ‘Do I Need You Now?’ is transformed into an epic, eight-minute long lament with some excellent bass work. Album highlight has to be their cover of Madonna’s ‘Beautiful Stranger’. Thankfully not imitating Madge’s frustratingly cutesy vocals, singer Tommy O’Dell makes it his own and, minus William Orbit’s bubbly production, it’s a slowed down, maudlin affair which loses nothing of the melodic majesty of the original. Worth the price alone.

These projects are generally only for the dedicated fan base, and it’s true that casual listeners will find little to draw them in here. For fans of the band it’s a different matter though, as these new interpretations vary from closely following the blueprint of the master version to becoming a different song entirely, and no less enjoyable.

Which is testament to the band’s ability to craft good songs, regardless of the instruments delivering it.