Blank Dogs

Blank Dogs
Under and Under
(In the Red, 2009)

Is there such a thing as mystery in the internet age? Can a person issue anything of interest into any level of the public sphere without its source eventually exposed? The answer, frustratingly, is yes, but only if we’re talking about cave-recorded ads for the jihad. If it’s music, then no—all things are revealed in time, no matter how many sheets one wraps around one’s face in publicity photos. Blank Dogs materialized on the Northeast lo-fi micro-indie scene a couple years ago, seemingly from the ether, and quickly flooded new music hunters’ to-do lists with a glut of homespun, artfully garbled proto-synth-punk/whatever-wave tapes, CDs, 7”s, and 12”s. Given how hungry and opportunistic most folks can be when it comes to credit and attention, this was a phenomenon shrouded with a considerable heft of mysterious anonymity, leading to theories that there was no one particular artist or group, but possibly a secret network of artists with common musical ideals. However, as the obscure and limited releases continued creeping out into the exclusive tri-state enclaves of underground vanguard, bloggers quickly caught the scent, curiosity intensified, and Mike “Sniper” of the now slightly better-known Jersey punk outfit DC Snipers slowly let down his guard. Mike is from New Jersey, enjoys long, off-season strolls along the boardwalk, and now works the counter at Academy Records in Williamsburg. When not getting “awesome in the streets” (as in the DC Snipers song), Mike is the sole creative force behind the masks, cryptic artwork, warped vocals, and seething keyboards of Blank Dogs.

It’s always fascinating when an artist so adept at one style turns around and excels in another very different one, no matter how much sense it makes for someone who plays lots of loud rock to also hunker down for the alternative joy of subtler, more implosive exploration. Night and day though they appear, there are plenty of angles in common between the charged, muscular slop-anthems of DC Snipers and the angular, amphibious dour-pop of Blank Dogs, in that there’s more than meets the ear to both. They’re both ripe for lazy (though not inaccurate) comparisons and yet dig deeper for their own more specific points of reference. Both hit serious sweet spots of catchiness and melody, and both deftly fuse genres and subgenres. For Blank Dogs, this constitutes a grimy overlap somewhere in the neighborhood of synth-punk, new wave/post-punk, goth, lo-fi electro, etc. Lazy comparisons could be drawn from anywhere around Joy Division (see “Open Shut”) to Gang of Four (in the caustic guitars of “Around the Room”) to the Cure (pretty much throughout if you’re not listening closely, but particularly in the fantastic “Tin Birds”), while the artist himself is more apt to admit influences among bouncy late ’70s UK DIY punk, such as the Disco Zombies or the synth-ier 48 Chairs.

Blank Dogs also has its present-day context among the old-fashioned, reverb-y roster on In the Red Records and elsewhere. C86 revivalists/labelmate trio the Vivian Girls are kindred souls, two of whom contribute backing vocals to a couple songs on Under and Under. Blank Dogs fits snugly in with the burgeoning Woodsist label scene as well, sharing heavy vocal filter sensibilities with the crunchier rock of Wavves, and with the buried background acoustic jangle of “L Machine” and the echo-chamber aesthetic of “The New Things”, some common ground with Crystal Stilts and others. Yet beyond this abundant nest of nouveaux-chic names to drop, the music endures: Bleak sustenance for melody-loving realists in bedrooms with windows that open only onto airshafts. There’s not a weak song on this album, or scarcely anywhere in the Blank Dogs’ entire, suddenly voluminous, catalog for that matter. Songs are varied enough to keep each stylistically fresh while the lot runs consistently and engagingly throughout. And though the lyrics are difficult to decipher, it seems less like a pretentious device than a natural emphasis on keyboards and guitars.

Making music so instantly enjoyable and yet emotionally insulated, it’s ultimately understandable why Mr. Sniper does his damnedest to keep a low profile, despite the inevitability that such efforts backfire in the blogosphere. Much of what makes this music great is its even-handed darkness, which is all too easily trivialized in the instant neon glare of sudden limelight. With the ambiguous artwork and era-straddling genre mix, Blank Dogs aims for a certain kind of timelessness, which is a success that can only be told in time. As for everything else, Sniper hits his mark.

Listen: Various Tracks [at myspace.com]

Tags: Blank Dogs, Under and Under, In the Red Records, Vivian Girls