DOUR

Dour Dive Into the Post-Punk Abyss On Rudiments

Wielding hypnotic rhythms and heavy tones, the Vancouver trio show they aren't scared of the dark on this quick and dirty debut.

by Myles Tiessen

Dour’s music conquers the disheartened feeling of solitude. Whether that’s self-imposed exile caused by disdain for this world and its occupants or its unwelcome alienation sanctioned thereupon, the three songs that make up Rudiments are as isolating as they come. 

But all of that you can glean just from their band name. The trio, composed of Zak Salehian (guitar/vocals), Patrick Hamil (drums), and Gabe Jacob Ferman (bass), lean wholly into and, in some regard, celebrate the darker side of their sound. “Call,” with its running bass line that never finds its way into a sprint and Salehian’s forlorn vocals echoing through an infinite cavern, is heavy and emotionally imposing. It sits ominously in the middle of Rudiments, taking a toll on the listener as they move from the energetic opener to the odic closer. 

That opener, “Laugh,” however, is Rudiments’ highlight. It’s brash, brazen, and full of spikes and punches. It’s the distillation of what makes a modern post-punk song so energizing. The almost hypnotic rhythm section works to ground the song in some material reality as the snarling guitar chimes its way into another galaxy, while the deep, barking vocals preach with the disaffected attitude of someone sentenced to death row. 

Dour’s debut EP is a very short, albeit grand, statement of what it means to truly exist in dark isolation.