Album Review: Third Eye Blind’s “Dopamine” leaves synapses high and dry

Album review: “Dopamine” by Third Eye Blind

It’s funny how some bands will form out of the ashes of others, pulling most of the personnel out of the rubble and propping them up again under a different name. Not so for Third Eye Blind, a band whose list of former members is twice as long as the list of current ones.

As such, Third Eye Blind is more of a brand than a band. This b(r)and pretty much exploded onto the music scene with its self-titled album in 1997, which garnered a great deal of acclaim, including a Billboard Music Award for Best Modern Rock Track for “Semi-Charmed Life.” Mansions were built upon the skillful-placement of “doot-doot-doots.”

Fast forward to 2015, when every headlining band from the ‘90s is either making what they think is a comeback or is desperately trying to stay relevant and up-to-date without losing whatever sonic claim to fame they developed a quarter-century ago.

“Dopamine” is just fine. It’s listenable and danceworthy. Frontman and producer Stephan Jenkins is still doing what he does well, which is making happy, shiny pop songs with gloomy themes and sounding sort of like Sublime but not really. What he doesn’t do well is subtlety, originality, or memorability—not anymore, at least. Their 1997 success, “Third Eye Blind,” might have been the soundtrack to our lives 18 years ago, but if “Dopamine” is the soundtrack to our lives now, our lives are dull, repetitive, and meaningless.

The upbeat “Everything is Easy” provides just enough casual drug references to seem cool. Actually, it’s really hard to tell if it’s literally cool, “ironically” cool, or just kind of juvenile. Maybe that’s subjective. Otherwise, it’s what is expected: a formulaic, four-chord love song. Like the drugs to which it refers, it’s over before you know it, you don’t clearly recall what happened, and a tiny bit of your life that you’ll never get back is gone forever.

Like “Everything is Easy,” the theme of “Shipboard Cook” is loneliness, and it begins softly over piano but soon builds into the chorus. The repeated line, “I’m always a ghost,” amid mention of haunting, seems to suggest that the title could have less awkwardly been “Ghost,” but that would have put the song in competition with Mystery Skulls’ whiplash-inducing dancehall triumph, “Ghost” (talk about dopamine!) and every good songwriter knows not to name a song after one that someone already wrote better.

“All The Souls” is an interesting departure, blending elements of Ben Folds with Maroon 5, The Black Crows, and—as they unfortunately often do—the famously bar-lowering Sublime. Sure, it starts out sounding like a strummy Jack Johnson tune, but Jenkins quickly shifts to a raspy falsetto and a sort-of-but-not-really African American inflection, like a skinny white dude’s lukewarm impression of Seal. A piano seems to pound away, but it’s mostly bass doubling. And yesss! There are “doot-doot-doots!” Score!

“Dopamine” opens with the same kind of reverby piano lick that so many other post-Coldplay songs do anymore. Then it kicks into fairly standard peppy Third Eye Blind fare, only occasionally slipping back into Chris Martin’s world. Oh, and [SPOILER ALERT]: The song title is a drug reference.

A surefire way to start off on the wrong foot is with autotune. Even worse is abusing a sampler. It’s like cooking with habanero peppers: a little goes a long way, and it’s pretty easy to accidentally use too much. And you usually want to wash your hands thoroughly afterwards, being careful not to touch the eyes, genitals, or other sensitive areas. Lyrically, “Rites of Passage” is just lovely, with classic “TMI” moments like the line, “Break-ups, blowjobs and black guys.” Hearing about drugs was getting boring! Later, Jenkins has the gall to refer to Bowie. Every good songwriter knows that a Bowie reference is never appropriate unless there is glitter, saxophone, or bisexuality involved (preferably all three).

“Back to Zero” also encroaches upon Coldplay territory until the chorus hits, at which point they intrude upon The Police. Hey, if you’re going to sound like someone else, sound like someone good, right? Didn’t someone say that? “Back to Zero” is more mellow than usual, which is a nice change of pace, especially for any listeners who aren’t literally high all day long. There is a straight-up fantastic solo in this song which consists of a guitar, sounding like something from classic Duran Duran, getting a good eighth-note beating—just one glorious chord. Seriously, it’s great, and it totally redeems some of the track’s weaker aspects.

“Something in You” is sung to a hopefully fictional post-party fling. The intimate first third of the song rockets into a cymbal-smashing anthem, blasting an inexplicable optimism all over your eardrums. Every good songwriter knows that impulsive behavior, impaired judgment, and poor decisions always make great song material!

Is that Bradley Nowell singing on “Get Me Out of Here”? Believe it or not, nope. Jenkins waxes teary about being “the greatest rock star ever,” his “cold and calculating” ex-wife, and of course, getting out of wherever the heck he is. While the plot is mangled, it seems that “someone” who is a little too high backstage is being encouraged to get his ass back onstage. This song is a Queen-like roller coaster that climbs to dizzyingly egocentric heights and plummets to almost embarrassingly self-conscious lows, for better or for worse.

For being a song about sociopathic behavior, “Blade” is surprisingly the most serene and sedate song on the album. The thing about poetry is that there are fun ways to say something obliquely. But with Jenkins delivering lines like “And your father said follow the money to the source / That’s what life is all about / Then you fuck the source / Till the money comes out,” it’s best to recognize that—poetry be damned!—there are some serious issues being dealt with here. Y’all best stand back. Some people pursue therapy, and some people put out so-so pop albums. What’s important is to process it, publicly or not.

Another song that Sublime didn’t record, “All These Things” is nicely stripped-down. While some of Jenkins’ production tricks are pretty cheesy, some are actually kind of tasty, and the sparser instrumentation allows those to emerge. In the music industry, there is the adage, “less is more.” It couldn’t be more true, and “All These Things” is living proof. Next to the rest of the songs, it almost sounds like a demo. And that’s why it’s so good. In its simplicity, it’s the best song on the album, hands down.

“Exiles” follows up similarly, largely leaving the digital legerdemain behind. The second Bowie reference of the album is forgiven, mostly because it fits the song’s nostalgic tone. Restraint, both in terms of downplaying production as well as leaving the volume knob below 10, is again what allows this song to shine.

The final song, “Say It,” continues to air dirty laundry, and Jenkins belts out the strongest vocals of his career, nearly sounding like Seal (but like, for real this time). Unfortunately, there are some glaring technical problems, harmonically speaking, during the guitar solo that involve some clashing notes between a piano ostinato and a bass note that doesn’t fit. (Music theory 101: suspend a chord, or don’t, but ya can’t do both at the same time.) As many a headstrong weekend warrior has learned the hard way, publishing mistakes is one of the dangers of producing your own music. After the song ends (“ends”), listeners are treated (“treated”) to a minute-long EDM coda that jumps out of the silence the way a drunken Richard Simmons might stumble out of your daughter’s closet during her eighth birthday party, vomiting sequins. Everyone is startled, confused, and slightly irritated, yet mildly entertained. Every good songwriter knows when to shut up already.

Third Eye Blind’s “Dopamine” is an interesting mix of honest redemption and careless mediocrity. The level of musicianship involved is relatively low, the songwriting is generally unimaginative, and the lyrics are uncomfortably pedestrian. If “Dopamine” were food, it would be plain white rice mixed with a pound of Skittles. Yet it’s certainly nothing worse than what the general mainstream has to offer, and at it’s best points, it’s far better. To put it to you straight, “Dopamine” is an album.

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