White Dog, “Autumnal Phase” CDr
Northern merchant of death drones White Dog unfurls “Autumnal Phase,” a live recording from 2009. “Autmnal Phase” feels a bit more subdued and perhaps less sonically varied from past efforts, but that doesn’t detract from this disc’s effectiveness. Alien frequencies slowly oscillate through a swirling vortex of reverb and delay. The peaks and valleys start off fairly slow, as if you were cruising over a great plateau on the bottom of the ocean. Void of life, the ground littered only with the bones of whales picked clean by carrion. Gradually, the floor starts to incline, descending faster and faster in a dizzying darkness, at once suffocating and cavernous and you become lost amidst an underwater mountain range. Decaying tape loops crackle and fuzz as a black cloud of low-end nastiness starts to writhe around the 20-minute mark until it begins to swallow everything whole. Here White Dog’s synths get nice and blown out, sounding like you’re inside a great underwater creature, like you can feel the black blood pumping through the arteries surrounding you. The beast dives, and the pressure begins to build. The sound gets blurrier, smeared together with flecks of white and red. Finally, the bottom falls out, and few lone squalls slowly disappear back into the abyss. This is noise that requires patience, for both the listener and the maker. Definitely worth it.White Dog, s/t tape
This self-titled tape from White Dog comes from the north, those great purveyors of dark noise at the Prairie Fire label. The fact that this tape has such a spartan feel, both in artwork and title, indicates that White Dog is ready to throw down some serious business. And he does.Chugging machines oscillate with buried tones half-heard. The machines shift; the tones become more apparent, still in a dark harmony together. A lonesome obtuse guitar emerges in the left channel near the end with the electronic cycling reaching the peak. On “The Return Of The Light,” White Dog imparts a near-hopeful quality to the the mix, but only barely. Sounds are imbued with watery hiss, faraway echo, a drill-tone; all manner of pulsations and blurts come together to form a strange, cohesive whole.
Flipping sides, a distant alien cyclone rages at a controlled pace on “My Other Car Is A Bomb.” A singularly bold synth arrives, similarly snowy. It’s from a great distance the storm is observed, with occasional squalls venturing within reach. “A Forest” wraps things up nicely. A contemplative, harpsichord-like guitar motif is plucked, chiming bells resound amid the smattering of voices and other remote found sounds. Although subdued, an uncertainty, or a dread hangs in air.
An impressive release from White Dog, some deliciously strange and wintry noise. This is an edition of only fifty tapes, still available at the label website. Get one before they’re gone.
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