The Dobermans
Nothing On The Internet
Seven albums in, Milwaukee’s The Dobermans aren’t softening their edges. Fronted, and entirely written by Chris Doberman, the project has always balanced sharp, punk-leaning energy with moments of unexpected melody. On Nothing On The Internet, that push-and-pull is still here, but the focus feels tighter, the bite a little sharper.
The record takes its cues from the wiry urgency of early Buzzcocks, then slips into softer, stranger spaces that nod toward The Smiths, Paul McCartney, or They Might Be Giants. Every so often, a more atmospheric passage breaks through, something you could imagine drifting out of a Sigur Rós record before the tempo kicks back in.
The record takes its cues from the wiry urgency of early Buzzcocks, then slips into softer, stranger spaces that nod toward The Smiths, Paul McCartney, or They Might Be Giants. Every so often, a more atmospheric passage breaks through, something you could imagine drifting out of a Sigur Rós record before the tempo kicks back in.
Lyrically, it’s an unfiltered read on the way modern life looks when it’s refracted through screens: news cycles that churn endlessly, social feeds that distort reality, and the constant static of manipulation and half-truths. There’s no neat moral or political angle here, just an attempt to catch what it actually feels like to live inside that noise.
Recorded entirely at Doberman’s home studio, the album carries a handmade quality, not just in the performances, but in the instruments themselves, many of which were built by Doberman. That tactile approach shows up in the sound: bass lines with weight, guitars that bite without gloss, percussion that feels close enough to touch.
Nothing On The Internet doesn’t try to be fashionable, and that’s exactly why it works. It’s a snapshot of one songwriter’s view of a world in flux, built without compromise and delivered with the conviction that, in Doberman’s words, “creation is always better than regret.”
Recorded entirely at Doberman’s home studio, the album carries a handmade quality, not just in the performances, but in the instruments themselves, many of which were built by Doberman. That tactile approach shows up in the sound: bass lines with weight, guitars that bite without gloss, percussion that feels close enough to touch.
Nothing On The Internet doesn’t try to be fashionable, and that’s exactly why it works. It’s a snapshot of one songwriter’s view of a world in flux, built without compromise and delivered with the conviction that, in Doberman’s words, “creation is always better than regret.”