dodie: Build a Problem review – much more than a YouTube sensation

Build a Problem is a coming of age for dodie with its cinematic ambition and intricate strings compositions, although much of the album lacks a sense of purpose.

The last ten years have seen a monumental change in the music industry. For the first time ever, anyone with a bit of money to spare can make music and publish it only. Buy a cheap, easy instrument (say, ukulele) and grab the nearest microphone-equipped Apple earphones and you’re set to write whatever your heart desires, no matter who you are. Even the professionals-only barrier that used to require a leap of faith for a new artist to start invest in their own vinyls and CDs has completely disintegrated – online distributors like DistroKid and Amuse made it virtually free to get your music on Spotify and beyond, unlocking an ocean of potential listeners for the wannabe popstar without needing to pander to the whims of the increasingly antiquated radio DJ. It is undoubtedly a good thing for music – little more than fifteen years ago, a boy posting videos of guitar covers online and a girl uploading her first song to a free webforum would likely sing into the void unnoticed. Today they’re Justin Beiber and Billie Eilish.

Yet, it has to be said that the byproduct of this new “everyone can be a popstar” world is that not everyone that wants to be a popstar is particularly good. YouTube now hosts endless hours of white girls with earphones and ukuleles humming along to Hey There Delilah sitting on their fairy-light-festooned bed. London-based singer-songwriter dodie undoubtedly came from that same cohort of humbly-all-lowercase internet musicians, although one listen to her long-awaited debut album Build a Problem and you’ll hear the days of quaint little ukulele covers are long gone. In fact, for a long-time dodie fan like myself, the album is brimming with maturity, with the usual themes of young love and naive optimism replaced by the self-destructive lust on I Kissed Someone or dodie’s reckoning with depersonalisation and depression on Before the Line. However, if there’s any track on Build a Problem that presents dodie as the full-fledged, serious solo musician she is now, it’s the chilling Cool Girl. A deceptively simple three-chord ballad, the build on Cool Girl is remarkable, with dodie’s soaring, unforgettable melodies scoring her urgent questions about identity and conformity. It’s here that we get a first proper taste of dodie’s potent secret weapon: a 13-piece strings section, assembled and arranged by herself. The arrangement is beautiful enough to discount any argument that her music continues to be simplistic internet fluff.

Special Girl is the immediate followup and an interesting antithesis to Cool Girl with a daringly unique Latin-esque backing neatly complementing dodie’s lyrics of feminism and individuality. dodie’s own clarinet playing – which pops up time and time again elsewhere on the album – is also a fun addition to the party. Whether the song has enough hook power to keep me coming back for more is another matter, however.

It’s also fair to say that dodie is often an exceptionally quiet musician. I’ve been waiting patiently for years for a new loud and proud pop bop like her bouncy early single In the Middle but – perhaps due her difficulties in belting out notes – nothing on Build a Problem quite replicates that energy, with songs often lulling you to sleep instead. Strong opener Hate Myself is as danceable as things get, culminating in a sweet hook-filled loop, featuring some surprisingly excellent percussion work from Ross Craib given the lack of traditional backbeats and fills. Instead, dodie is a specialist when it comes to quiet slow builds. I Kissed Someone (It Wasn’t You) is a stunner. It’s an enthralling, visceral and yet oddly uneasy listen, with what sounds like the clicking sounds of an old cassette player accompanying a chorus that lands like a heavy blanket. It’s music that sounds like driving in a city at night, or like crying slowly, silently and alone. It’s one of dodie’s rawest compositions to date.

One-the-nose lyrics and a relatively weak melody let down the sweetly forgettable Rainbow whereas the lyric “four tequilas down, who gives a shit” could hardly sound more grating when set to the tame and virtually inaudible ukulele backing on Four Tequilas Down. It sounds a little like a knockoff Toothpaste Kisses but without any of the warmth or intimacy. Sorry and When continue a rather uninspiring leg of the album. The string arrangements sparkle and dodie’s voice is pretty but prettiness can only save so much when each song lacks any unique sense of personality. Closer Before the Line continues in much the same vein until a completely unexpected mood change via some starkly menacing cellos and an impassioned exploration of dodie’s crystal-clear upper range. It’s just a shame the storm dissipates just as soon as it materialises.

Along with the official album comes a glut of another ten lockdown-composed bonus tracks that really deserve their own B-side release. It’s a mixed and admittedly ukulele-heavy bunch, but sassy Boys Like You is a definite highlight, whilst subtly raunchy in the bed moves with a Beatles-esque lilt.

All things considered, dodie ought to be proud of her sprawling 22-song debut. Build a Problem flows well and is lit up by her talent for string arrangements, although the formula of ukulele and strings musings become more directionless and unremarkable as the album progresses. Thoughtful, beautiful and often poignant, Build a Problem see dodie break her millennial YouTube-star cocoon whilst staying true to the intensely personal, home-spun style that helped grow her following over the years. Nonetheless, I’d be lying if I said she didn’t still have plenty of room to grow.