Office Dog Feel the Overwhelming Weight of the World on Doggerland

Sometime between 6500 and 6200 BCE, a small area of land off the coast of Northern Europe, one that connected Great Britain to the rest of the continent, became submerged in the North Sea’s rising sea levels and was completely flooded. Before its demise, it seemingly separated into several tiny islands, a tragic display of a fragmented region trying to piece itself, its history and creed, back together—only to ultimately sink to the bottom of the ocean.

When New Zealand indie rock group Office Dog named their newest EP Doggerland, a seven-song collection filled with tales of loss and rebuilding, they used the doomed island of the same name as an inspiration. On Doggerland, the band feels the overwhelming weight of the world, nearly drowned out by rough waters—but they do the best they can to breach the surface among the madness.

Just shy of 10 months after the release of their debut album Spiel, the trio shed that record’s traditional indie rock approach and take a grungier but gentler road on Doggerland. While Spiel was blown-out, anthemic and rapid, Doggerland is roomy, reflective and transitional—giving space for ideas and exclamations to unfold. Singer Kane Strang, a New Zealand indie staple in his own right, longs to bridge the gap between the unknown and the understood among spiraling acoustic melodies. We see him connect the dots and come to realizations in real time: “Gone / I’ve been gone for so long,” he sings through gritted teeth on “And Everything.” There’s a stark emotional containment in the way he calls out on Doggerland’s choruses—holding so much inside but wanting, or maybe needing, to control the volume in which it spills out.

There are inklings of the Dunedin indie rock scene both new and old present, with faint jangles reminiscent of the 3Ds and the Bats paired with the droning, swirling guitar rock of the band’s labelmates, Wax Chattels. Office Dog blend all of this effortlessly; while songs like “Can’t Wait” are fuzzy and lighthearted, they unravel into a darker motif—as gloomy crescendos marked by the lurch of a piano and the guidance of Rassani Tolovaa’s warm bass tones play out over Strang’s pleading cries for a shift. “In this place / I can change / I can’t wait,” he murmurs in a desperateness that sounds almost optimistic.

Office Dog’s Bandcamp page describes Doggerland as the meeting place between their last album and the “soon to be released follow-up,” an idea that unfolds through complexities, like the fuzzy ballad “Dump No Waste, Flows to the Sea.” While drawing parallels to the slow-burning, sputtering Spiel track “Warmer,” the band reinvents its explosive ending moments with a fired-up passion, with drummer Mitchell Ines beginning in an upbeat and reserved tone before detonating into an all-consuming, clashing storm. Strang cries out the song’s title feverishly over and over—an urgent warning that might be too late; the sea level is already rising.

However, the EP closes out with the soft and dreamy track “The Surface,” a gentle and triumphant indication that they’ve found their footing once again, on land this time. Doggerland is not like the area it was named after—it does not give way to the gloomy skies and choppy waters that surround it. Cathartic and bare-boned, it airs out the grievances and struggles that come with almost losing oneself, and steps forward into the future.