Yes, the Donkeys are from Southern California. San Diego, to be precise. That much is clear just a few notes into their second album, Living on the Other Side, a sort of retro SoCal prospecting that yields mostly fool's gold. The Donkeys have suitably dusty harmonies, guitar licks homesteading in the Bakersfield exurbs, drumbeats that play close to the chest, and laconic tempos seemingly induced by lifestyle THC intake-- all of which recall a diverse range of past artists: the International Submarine Band, Sweetheart of the Rodeo-era Byrds, the Flying Burrito Brothers, and even Gram Parsons solo. Okay, there's a little Dead in there, and the singing drummer calls forth associations to a band whose name I've promised myself I would never type again.
I only wish the Donkeys sounded more like Beachwood Sparks-- not necessarily in practice, but at least in spirit. Until about five or six years ago, that L.A. band panned this same musical river and found more than a few nuggets. Granted, living in this particular past meant something very different seven years ago than it does today. At the time, this desert was more or less deserted, so Beachwood Sparks came across as almost cultlike in their dedication, their stovepipe trousers and rodeo shirts the rock equivalent of white robes and sandals. However, the extent of their immersion seemed modern-- or at least a legitimate response to modern times-- which led them to treat their forebears a bit cavalierly. They covered Sade, for chrissakes.
The Donkeys similarly party like it's 1969, but too often they sound more like historical re-enactors than an actual 2008 band. Living on the Other Side is impeccable, each element precisely and no doubt lovingly placed. Even the "Yeah, baby!" on "Traverse Wine" sounds well rehearsed. Shoot, the album is divided into two sides, like one of those old-timey LPs. Side One begins with "Gone Gone Gone", a studiously shambling number that features the same cactus-pointy guitar solo twice. But hey, it's the best idea in the song, so why not? "Walk Through a Cloud" and "Dolphin Center" sound precious, the latter saved by Jessie Gulati's nimble guitar solo, while "Traverse Wine" simply evaporates into the air.
Fortunately, Side Two better showcases the band's chops and reveals a slightly more adventurous edge. "Nice Train" has some, well, nice "Sleepwalking"-style guitars as singer/drummer Sam Sprague describes a harried night at a roadhouse. That the establishment in question is a hipster hangout rather than a Hells Angels bar is a pretty good joke, one that reminds you that Living isn't a reissue. Still, the effect is undone by the sitar and percussion on "Dreamin'". Not using bongos just isn't enough at this point. "Boot on the Seat" trots out their very own Emmylou Harris, although Mariah Dancing's voice nicely complements both Sprague's vocals and the wailing harmonica behind them. Worse, the vocals on closer "Excelsior Lady" verge on California cornpone, but Anthony Lukens salvages it somewhat with a simple, but endlessly effective, ascending-descending organ riff that actually makes a pleasant palette for the sleepy guitar licks. It's a nice flourish on an album with more than a few such moments, but they're not enough to make the Donkeys' nostalgia sound like more than a pose, or Living much more than dry and dull.
