I never thought I would be a fan of any artist to come from the neo-folk movement. The Moldy Peaches were as far as I would go toward anything that might give people the impression that I’m from Boulder or enjoy plain yogurt and granola. David-Ivar Herman Dune is my exception.
The brilliance behind Ya Ya, Dune’s first solo record on California label Shrimper, is in his lyrical honesty. Dune chronicles his everyday existence down to each minute detail, describing his dreams of getting pulled over in New Jersey and giving the patrolman a fake ID to the fact that he hasn’t been home to walk his dog in 12 weeks. These lines are simple, humorous, and plainly addictive. No emotion feels too sexed up or over-exaggerated, and tracks move like mini-home movies, each a little different from the next but still retaining Dune’s taste for the ordinary.
Dune’s voice is hard to swallow at first; the opening track “Time of Glory/NYC” sounds like we are listening to a man singing in the shower. His voice warbles awkwardly, tripping over his own words as his accent comes and goes. There is nothing to cloud Dune’s content; each song contains his bare voice, a guitar or Ukulele, and some bass or drums here and there. Ya Ya is a no bullshit album. And for that, I would like to thank David-Ivar Herman Dune. He has created one of the better albums I’ve heard this year.
