Photo by Honor Mitchell
Songs
Formed from the primeval sump of London’s progressive rock scene with a distinct twee character, Dover is eclectic, gritty and oddly-theatrical.
These songs were written by guitarist and singer Lucas Kellar.
They Will Grow
Dover’s twee anthem, written by Lucas Kellar. This song was written with inspiration from Postal 2, a game in which “flowers will grow”.
| Oh, it’s amazing what I could do for you Don’t face it Embrace it They will grow. Flowers will grow. I thought I’d seen that face before. Oh, nevermind. Just trace me in the sand. | I promised to grow in the green time. But it’s summer now. So you wear that crown, And I’ll wear my russet coat. Oh, they will grow. Cassidy, you were an angel! Shot in the forest, far from the Church and the people. Tony’s and/ors never worked for anyone. So give me hope. They will grow. They will grow. They will grow. |
Lou of Misericorde, Forever In Shades
Dover’s statement twee prog rock song.
| Holding onto little whiles As if you’re here, on the ground Like your guile, like your sword Hacking it all away So put on your boots And grab the ales and Swim into the bright light La-la-la Oh stop what you start, and I’ll, oh You of Miséricorde, forever in shades And don’t stop To waste just a minute Spinning your heart ‘Cause the Earth will spin you back ‘round In the endtimes What is dust will turn to snow All you’ve felt is not what you meant, dear All you’ve faced is not what you created Isn’t there something you should say? | Isn’t there something? La-la-la Well, the misery you afforded Strung the heartropes You use to say: “Oh, I know!” “Yeah, I know!” Yeah, how well do you really really know? La-la-la (You’re wearing the scrubs) And don’t stop Wasting every minute you have Cause it suits your piece of mind Something I can go off by Dental records match your Snapchat filter photos So I’ll build a cairn out of your every love What life is, so you can figure The Lord will breathe hello into your brittle, teething infant, adorable, gazing ears! |
Cytokines
A bleak introspection of a doctor and the fruits of his life, characterised by a twee-hooky declaration: I’m a hundred billion cytokines.
| Ehhhhh, I’m finally under the table. Lathering my tongue with bars of soap “Prayers are a dirty waste of your arms And your lungs” And I’ll keep on fighting On the water, Where I’ll keep kick, kick, kicking in December, Where they will grow, Where all things do. Both my hands will go numb I will know my life directions Again (Keep dancing on the water) Where I can still love you I am a hundred dollar bills that you can’t afford In your apartment room enclosure I am one hundred billion cytokines, Immortalised. Reciting everybody’s cancer: “I am hung up on snake oil” | No! Lucas’ woodland home! Thousands of twangling instruments Like the parrots in the heath Like your lunatic jeans, I will keep moving To 2000 and whatever. I am stretching ever longer. (Keep dancing on the water) Where I can still love you Mmmm I will shoot you down again and again like the Stone Roses! I am one hundred billion cytokines Crying To every cell in your bones like Lucas on crack cocaine, ohhhh-oh like water Holy water, your hand In my hand, ohhhh like water Holy War, I won’t let you down Holy War |
Old Songs
Mitch
Lucas Kellar’s vitriolic and Dinosaur Jr-esque song, starting with bluesy jangles reminiscent of contemporary Dover and ending with Dover’s grittier sounds.
| Can I make things right with you? Do I wanna know what’s true? See what’s down your wishing well and freak out when I don’t like it D’you promise not to go and tell everyone here? This feeling I can’t shake when I feel so spacey I don’t know why I can’t say hi Brothers load their arms again, I’m feeling cagey Pressures mount within You stumble over wins You’re feeling shakey so your brothers pelt his fucking face in | I don’t know why I can’t say hi Brothers load their arms again, I’m feeling cagey Pressures mount within You stumble over sin Your feeling shakes so your brothers pelt his fucking insides |
The Curb
Introspection and long, winding guitar solos with harrowing piercing drums.
| Threw myself to the curb Yeah it kinda hurt Yeah it’s not so right Just lemme be that chance Won’t they understand Longed to play it too Don’t know what to do I couldn’t have guessed What they’d do instead Saw who came half fried Came as no surprise Threw myself to the curb Yeah it kinda hurt Yeah I’m not so tough Lemme be that chance Won’t they understand | I couldn’t have guessed Fallen angels round your head Saw who came half fried I just couldn’t let it by Hit the door on your way out, every time you try to smile Don’t think a second that you’ve tried, every time I try deny If you can spell your name with mine, choose the life that made you cry For all the people you have been, sit on the curb and wait to bleed. |