Album Review: Watching The Dark Move by The Dharma Bums
Alright, let me just say this right off the bat—Watching The Dark Move feels like sitting in a dimly lit pub somewhere in the UK, nursing a pint while someone tells you their life story through song. Released back in 2008 on Not On Label (how indie is that?), this album blends folk, rock, and even hints of world music into something raw and real. It’s not perfect—it doesn’t try to be—but it sticks with you, kind of like an old friend who shows up unannounced but always has something interesting to say.
The first track I wanna talk about is “Why Didn’t You Stop?” This one hits different, man. It starts soft, almost hesitant, with Johnny Powell’s voice cracking over acoustic guitar strums that feel like they’re being played just for you. Then the drums kick in—not loud or flashy, just steady—and suddenly there’s this weight behind the words. Like he’s asking questions we’ve all thought but never dared to say out loud. The harmonies from Amie Willingale and Paul Dobbs add layers without stealing focus; it’s subtle, like whispers in the background urging him forward. By the end, when the mandolin sneaks in, it’s bittersweet—you want more, but it stops just short enough to leave you hanging. Damn good stuff.
Then there’s “Everything Depends,” which feels like staring at the stars on a cold night. Chris Derrick’s flute work here? Absolutely haunting. Paired with Amie Willingale’s violin, it creates this swirling atmosphere that pulls you under. Lyrically, it’s vague yet intimate—like overhearing part of a conversation and filling in the blanks yourself. When Powell sings, “It’s not the falling, it’s the landing / That leaves its mark,” my chest tightened. I mean, c’mon. Those lines stayed with me for days, replaying in my head during random moments. And the way the song builds slowly, layer by layer, until everything crashes together? Chills. Every. Time.
What makes Watching The Dark Move stand out isn’t flashy production or big-name collaborations—it’s how human it feels. You can hear the creaks in the floorboards, the breath between verses, the slight imperfections that remind you these songs were made by people, not machines. The credits read like a family affair too, with everyone pitching in where needed. Sam Leeming doing both artwork AND mandolin? Pete Heddle holding down the bass? It’s charming as hell.
Here’s the thing though—this album isn’t for everyone. If you’re looking for polished pop hooks or radio-friendly singles, you won’t find ’em here. But if you crave authenticity, if you love music that feels lived-in and honest, then give this a spin. Just don’t expect answers—it’s called Watching The Dark Move for a reason. Sometimes, you just gotta sit with the mystery.
Oh, and fun fact? There are two versions of “Don’t Wet the Bed” listed in the tracklist. Maybe it’s intentional, maybe it’s a typo. Either way, it kinda sums up the whole vibe of this record—a little messy, a little funny, but ultimately unforgettable.
