Dag For Dag – Boo
Ceremony Recordings: 2011
Boy/girl duos get a lot of press for being boy/girl duos for reasons that aren’t entirely clear. It doesn’t matter if they’re a brother and sister making avant-pop, as is the case with the Friedbergers of the Fiery Furnaces, or a husband and wife making twee indie pop like the keyboard-and-drums duo Mates of State. And you’ll get a lot of press if you’re not telling people which of the two you are. I’m looking at you, Jack and Meg. But whatever the reason, the boy/girl combination of a band is inexplicably noteworthy, as if that fact alone somehow informs the music, though each of the bands I just mentioned are all assuredly different. Some of the reason why the male/female duo is so intriguing to us as a point of fact could be because it would seem to necessitate some semblance of balance. Maybe the White Stripes could write matter of fact love songs with such deft aplomb because they didn’t have to worry about striving for it. Maybe the Fiery Furnaces are confident enough to shoot for the stars because of the support they have in each other.
Dag For Dag are a brother/sister team, a pair of California-borne transplants in Sweden, and no surprise they’re different from the Friedbergers or the Whites. On Boo, their debut full-length for Ceremony Records, they offer up a plate of darkened, emotional indie rock that got them noticed by Saddle Creek, who released their Shadows EP in 2009. If emotional balance is the hypothesis of such a team, then Dag For Dag wrecks the data curve. The tension present on Boo is as tangible and thick as any single guy moaning into his four-track.
It makes sense that Saddle Creek got behind Dag For Dag. There’s an emotional transparency to the songs on Boo that the label made its name on with acts like Cursive and Bright Eyes. And influences of both those bands show up in Dag For Dag’s music. Conor Oberst and Tim Kasher wrote the book on cutting close to the bone, emotionally, and Sarah and Jacob Snavely yearn for that quality on Boo. While they don’t quite make it, their attempts aren’t entirely in vain.
The siblings obviously know each other as well musically as they must in reality; they weave lockstep around each other with spindly guitar and drum figures on “Seven Stories” and trade elegant melodic lines on “Boxed Up in Pine”. The tightness makes for drama on songs like de facto opening track “I Am the Assassin”, and the best moments on Boo are when they commit to that sort of touching ugliness. “Seven Stories” and “I Am the Assassin” are the best of the lot, each locking into a circuitous groove where dissonant guitars give pleasantly sung vocals a sinister edge.
But too often they pair lack an emotional focus. “Wouldn’t You” is soft and fluttery but lacks any real sense of conviction, passing by almost unnoticed. “Light On Your Feet” is an attempt at subtle beauty that drifts with cringing aimlessness. And “Animal” is an awkward attempt at blistering rock and roll that trips over itself and falls onto its face. Any attempt to branch out from the excellent format they establish on “I Am the Assassin” is met with severe growing pains and an undeniable sense that the band is fighting against what comes naturally.
There’s good stuff lurking in Boo. “Traffic Jam” and “The Leather of Your Boots” come close to capturing the spirit of the pair’s best, with their noir Western stomp, but they lack a certain amount of energy. It’s when the brother and sister sound most tired that their music reflects that feeling. But when they muster up some energy, the tension wire dance they execute shows promise. That promise isn’t fulfilled on Boo, but it doesn’t dissuade me from thinking the Snavely’s could pull it off soon.
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2.5 out of 5
