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Aug 08, 2024 Web Exclusive By Marina Malin

On 2021’s autumn equinox, I watched Phildephia’s Dr. Dog permeate their non-conforming indie rock sound over the green hills of Vermont for what I believed to be the last time. For me, the concert was a celebration of Dr. Dog’s time as a band, as they advertised it to be their last tour. Dr. Dog’s Shame, Shame (2010), B-Room (2013), and Abandoned Mansion (2017) served as the sonic blanket cradling my late high school memories; performing a sonic slideshow that would transport me to the aliveness of teenage friendship and crunching leaves on the sidewalks of my hometown.

I imagined their self-titled work to be a similar effect as the concert: a culmination of their discography that is performed at their best, capable of evoking bygone memories. While Dr. Dog certainly embodies their full fledged sound, the record fails to reach its potential with its lack of innovation. For better or for worse, there is a reminiscent quality as Dr. Dog refuses to move on beyond their signature noise that invades each track.

Each song utilizes tools from Dr. Dog’s rusting toolbox to evoke all the same landscapes and arrive at the same conclusions as their discography has done before. The song construction and vocals on tracks such as “White Dove” and “Fat Dog” recall familiarity. The latter even references Dr. Dog’s big hit “Where’d All the Time Go?” The sound of maximalism on “Authority” never takes a break to come up for air. In contrast to the possibly unnecessary urgency of “Authority,” the tracks “Still Can’t Believe,” “Handyman,” and “Talk is Cheap” should be honored for their improved ability to take their time and unravel at their own accord. However, we cannot have progress without failure; the monotonous guitar work and overall tempo in “Handyman” alongside the corniness of “Talk is Cheap” pinpoint some of the record’s downfall, failing to hold an audience’s interest. Drummer Eric Slick steps out in front of the drumset for his earnest attempt, “Tell Your Friends,” however, it is plainly underwhelming.

When Dr. Dog are playing live, their full sound dominates every setting, forcing you to succumb to the band’s layering instrumentals and assured vocals, but Dr. Dog is composed of songs we’ve already heard time and time again. It’s akin to a grown up who peaked in high school using all the same jokes and pick up lines decades later. (www.drdogmusic.com)

Author rating: 5/10