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DEDICATION TO your art comes in more than one form. You can sit for months in your bedroom practicing your instrument and polishing quotes. Alternatively, if you're a statuesque, Nordic-style powerfemale with a flamethrower crown of blonde hair and a decidedly Brigitte Nielson demeanour beneath your leather gear. you can polish up your shoes and step out to learn the secret art of walking through the fog and jostle of a packed nightclub, wearing seveninch high shiny black platform shoes. I do not think the towering inferno of a thrust-chick fronting Dove has spent much time hunched over a practice amp. butshe's still sort of impressive. Tremendous balance. and lots of front.
Dove are from Glasgow and they're a keyboardist, a bongo-slapper and a mile-high singer who constitute what you might call a Sophisto-Disco-Trio, with added ultravixen potential. The tattooed hand of Dr AndrewWeatherall is involved in their slow-motion sensurround titillations, which probably explains the heavy sensuality of their approach, and might also explain why most of Primal Scream are twisting and fidgeting in club corners.
What you can hear tonight suggests swelling angelic sensidance pop. adrift on a sea of pump-action sex beats. However. for all the prowling Grace Jones-innegative vigour of the stack-heeled vamp-dame. and for all her rude microphone gestures. the vocals are virtually buried under the molten mix tonight.
Dove are visually magnetic and aurally hopeful but. as a passing roughneck pointed out. "She's a sexy bitch but you still couldn't tell if she can sing". Excellent for shoegazing, but from the ankles up Dove are a platform for debate.
Roger Morton

Originally appeared NME 4 Jan 1992 . Copyright Copyright, NME. All Rights Reserved.


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