On this, their eponymous debut album, they have continued their quest to explore the raw, bittersweet emotions that force themselves unbidden into all our lives. Musically The Dacoits have pushed further on into richer, more experimental climes. The songs are still largely grounded in a driven rock sound, but here they are also cocooned in banks of luscious harmony vocals, warm sound textures and washes of twisted electronic strangeness.
At one extreme you have the warped shapes of Black Dog and the chilled and melancholy strains of Let Her Out on Sunday. The other end of the scale is represented by the more raucous strains of Holy Man and Women on The Wheel, but what ever shape each song takes, they never fall short of sounding like anything other than part of a complete and well thought out body of work.
Matching the complexities and many layers of the instrumentation is the equally deep quality of the lyrics. You will have to excuse me resorting to clichés, but this really is poetry put to music. That may sound obvious but many lyrics don’t stand the trauma of being bisected from their musical accompaniment. Here, however we have words that if required to stand alone, do so admirably through their shadowy eloquence and dark design.
Often, this band seem to share similar qualities to those exhibited by likes of Cranberries or an early Sinead O’Connor; the ability to move from delicate, spatially aware intricacies to full on, relentless onslaughts of white noise at the drop of a hat.
Not only have they managed to surpass the very high standards they originally set for themselves, in doing so they have managed to create a brilliant debut album. Forget the fake emotions of so called emo music and the sixth form clichés of modern gothic bands, if you want a band who can rock out with the best of them and yet convey something that really comes from the heart, then these eleven tracks are the best example of just that.