Blank Dogs
Diana (The Herald)

I have a deep and irreducible allergy towards almost everything musically belonging to this first decade of the new millennium. Those photogenic offspring of a certain post-punk make me sick, the new interpreters of metalcore make me laugh uproariously, and I find all those indie lo-fi bands that seem to morbidly excite certain noise enthusiasts, clusterers, or whatever you want to call them, extremely vulgar. I find the new heroes of the Italian alternative scene shockingly vulgar (imagine who I'm talking about), and I carefully avoid expressing myself about the mainstream scene to avoid ruthless censorship or "ban".

Yet, by straining beyond belief and maintaining an unprecedented "nose in the air," I managed to find some sufficiently interesting bands. These are exceptions more unique than rare and, at least for now, seem destined to remain so.

Let's talk then about the Blank Dogs: a one-man band dedicated to the gloomy sound of the early '80s without, for this reason, being boring as others, unfortunately, know how to do well.

The project appears rather "hermetic" and this aspect, in years of frantic media and virtual noise, is a small point in its favor.

But, specifically, in favor of whom? The soul of Blank Dogs is a certain Mike Sniper, an American garage-rock musician with a weakness for the dark and subdued atmospheres of the early eighties.

What I reviewed, actually, is a simple 12" EP and not a real album. Yet, despite the brevity of the platter, I can discern excellent intentions in addition to a commendable attempt at reinterpreting sounds dear to me.

Joy Division, early Cure, and Bauhaus (but perhaps I'm delirious) seem to be the unsettling muses inspiring Mr. Sniper. Not less important is the "synth pop" influence inherited from New Order masters and some obscure formations of the "minimal wave" scene (the already reviewed Solid Space came to mind).

Add a sufficiently "lo-fi" production, despite the previously voiced criticisms against the heroes of this approach, and you get a rather complete picture.

Six songs, full of spectral fatalism and hypnotic wave progression. Noteworthy tracks? Certainly "Leaving The Light On", "Water Into Ice", and "Planets".

After this "Diana", the masked gentleman has published other appreciable material. A review of "Under And Under", present on this site, testifies to a certain interest in the project in question. This, of course, makes me quite happy.

What else is there to say? An intelligent and personal way to the increasingly inflated New Wave revival.