Black Dub

Daniel Lanois might be best known as legendary producer; his credits include some of U2's best selling albums, some of Bob Dylan's best albums of the past 20 years and most recently from Neil Young the tormented Le Noise (its name a thinly veiled reference to Lanois). Over the years he's juggled his own solo career releasing a string of modest yet critically acclaimed albums, with Black Dub the latest outing.

In 2010 Lanois has taken a slightly different approach to his own music, enlisting his longtime studio rhythm section of Brian Blade (drums) and Daryl Johnson (bass), as well as vocalist Trixie Whitley (daughter of Chris Whitley) to form a bona fide band. And so Black Dub is born, bringing with them their eponymous debut album.

As the title suggests, Black Dub flirts with dub, infusing moments of reggae throughout. Opening with a haunting Love Lives, Lanois is quick to paint a soundscape that's searing hot. It's the album you crank as you cruise through the deserts of Arizona on your way to a dancehall party. That happens, right?

Unmissably Lanois,  there's no shortage of dense-yet-meticulous instrumentation that somehow creates an end product that adds up to more than the sum of its parts. The largely instrumental cover of Tenor Saw's Ring The Alarm might be one of the most instrumentally effective tracts of the album; creating a slow, haunting wall of sound that slowly rises to create a melody, with Lanois's cutting lead guitar soaring above.

It's the uplifting Canaan where Black Dub truly shines. Lanois takes lead vocals on the track, reminiscent of Paul Simon's Graceland with its immediately catchy refrain "How far am I from Canaan? / How far am I from joy, from joy?". It's the track you try your best to resist skipping straight to. That you put on repeat and just enjoy.

Lanois's flair as a producer for poly-rhythmic drumming is all over, but nowhere more present than Sing. Paired with Johnson's walking bassline and upbeat sound it's a punchy New Orleans gospel-flavoured number reminiscent of Lanois's 1997 work with Bob Dylan.

The understated I Believe In You is a testament to Trixie Whitley's abilities as a vocalist; even when reaching for the stars she frequently pulls it off  as with the moody Silverado. For all she brings to the band, Whitley's soaring vocals seem to fall flat just enough to give the album an uneven feel about it. It's lesser moments like Surely where she bites off more than she can chew with a breathy caricature of a contralto soul voice sticking out like the sore thumb of the album.

All that said, Trixie Whitley may well now have one of the best resumes of up-and-comers her age and will surely be a name to look out for down the track. There's no career defining moments on Black Dub; instead we're presented with a solid album that has some outstanding moments. It lives up to Daniel Lanois' flair as a producer; though a true band collaboration, every inch of Black Dub has his fingerprints on it, which is why the album works.