Blank Dogs – Under and Under Blank Dogs – Under and Under

Blank Dogs – Under and Under

Blank Dogs – Under and Under

I love Pussy Galore. I even kind of adored Shithaus but that’s just because it was this rambling obscurity I’d hungered for ever since I first heard Songs About Fucking and ended up with a faded copy of the Trouser Press Record Guide (there’s a late night, Boarding School connection there I can’t recall at the moment) so when the internet felt compelled to grace me with Live Crush – ’84-’85 I was fucking overjoyed. Seriously. I told my girlfriend all about it over dinner and her eyes glistened because she knew what a rare and remarkable find this piece of shit was. And it was a piece of shit. And so was the note for note cover of Exile on Mainstreet and so, for that matter is much of Corpse Love and Right Now! and even some of Dial M for Motherfucker.

And I’ve fucking had enough.

I don’t want to hear the same jangle. I don’t want to hear the fade. I don’t want to hear what might be alienation or ennui or fuck knows what all because the goddamn vocals are so buried in effects he might as well be singing me Rachel Ray recipes with an ironic kink I wouldn’t pick up on with my pedestrian need for a bit of clarity now and then.

I mean, for fuck’s sake my life is muddled enough. I don’t need fifteen tracks of tepid confusion dragging me deeper into my concrete shoes but maybe you do and god keep you, then, because you’ll never be happy. Not until some neon prick tells you to and all your friends jump on the joy ride to hell.

That was rude.

I’m sure you’re nice people. I’m sure you love your mothers and mine might enjoy you too but you’re not going to be ending up at any of the parties that I do.

But I don’t regret what I said.

Mike Sniper is an artist and his work is consistent, if nothing else. I admire him. I envy his means. I give a damn that he exists and takes pains to create a visage we can disappear into. I just don’t want to go with him anymore. Even if there are songs that make their way into your head like Fleetwood Mac on an AM three cubicles away only, you know, less cocaine up the ass. Or…

Well, there’s nothing else really. A handful of this record is great and deserves being played out in a full human racket. The rest sounds like a wet demo tape.

And we don’t accept those.

Blank Dogs - Under and Under, reviewed by Charles on 2009-06-05T08:15:41-07:00 rating 2.0 out of 5

One Response about “Blank Dogs – Under and Under”

  • rebecca g says:

    yay! i once wrote a fed-up review of helmet in this now long-definct ev rag where i said, “i could make better music with a toothbrush in a jail cell.” i think our reviews r long-lost cousins