There is the difficult thing that must be done, and there are the ones who reluctantly do it. History is made by these brave hearts and yet they’re oft forgot, swept under the rug of decency along with the acts they commit in the service of maintaining order. It’s a dirty job, yes, but somebody simply must Shoot the Dog, and it just so happens the Cloak Ox are looking for work.
Andrew Broder, Martin Dosh, Mark Erickson, and Jeremy Ylvisaker have been steadily, recklessly executing scads of musical projects whilst steadfastly ignoring prevailing trends or eventual reception. The outcome of each has been true, though some are more remembered than others: Fog, Hymie’s Basement, Crook&Flail, Andrew Bird (and band), Alpha Consumer, Dosh. But none of that much matters now. This Minneapolitan foursome have delivered a fully realized work that simultaneously encapsulates and destroys their combined past endeavors.
This debut LP is a self-actualized study of parallel lives lived, abandoned spaces explored, vital/petty scores kept, momentary peace attained and, mostly, freedom sought. It sometimes sounds like a proto-metal band playing R&B. Or a fusion group covering Tom Petty. Or Manchester alt-dudes doing Americana. Actually, it sounds like The Cloak Ox, and that’s clearly a pretty silly thing to try and pin down. Shoot the Dog begins with “Yesterday’s Me,” a nine-minute dive into Funkadelic swamp-sadness cut with hard-gnarled guitars and heartbreaking vignettes. The song ends with a fiery prog dirge that breaks across the strong back of “Josephine,” a Lynott-kissed rocker that disguises its dark implications in a blindly bright chorus.
On the potent and surreal “Andy Broder’s Dream,” we hear hints of Queen and 70’s McCartney while Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon contributes harmonies. Dark Dark Dark’s Nona Marie Invie lends plaintive, earthy harmonies to a couple of songs. So does TV on the Radio’s Tunde Adebimpe. The hand percussion comes from Havana, Cuba’s Frank Rivery Garcia, and also there are strings and horns and organs and more voices that emerge with each delightful left turn. There’s a song that reminds us of The Road (“Hot Hands”) and also that one where Broder weighs his/our best intentions against his/our true nature (“Talking Big,” or maybe all of them). And then there’s the transcendent “Pigeon Lung,” in which he says all of the things we’d like to say to all of the shitheads who antagonize us with all of their pointlessness, but in one simple line: “Fucker, I’m tired of your riddles.” Crude though the lyric may be, it’s what needs to be said. The Cloak Ox aren’t here to dance around your issues. To paraphrase another Shoot the Dog song, they are in the business of creating real moments in this life. If you overlook them, that’s on you.
Links:
Press Quotes
The guitar-play is sword-like and masterful… When the Cloak Ox punches in during their climactic moments, it’s with full balls. Broder writes lyrics the way an older and wizened man, who’s seen his share of the country’s roads and its rock bars dozens of times over.
– Sean Moeller, Daytrotter
It sometimes sounds like a proto-metal band playing R&B. Or a fusion group covering Tom Petty. Or Manchester alt-dudes doing Americana. Actually, it sounds like The Cloak Ox, and that’s clearly a pretty silly thing to try and pin down.
– Chris Martens, SPIN
The Cloak Ox’s songs course with a sense of newfound enthusiasm that bursts to life onstage. Cloak Ox songs are more melodic, playful interpretations of the technically complex, cerebral indie rock its members are known for creating, and, above all else, it’s obvious they are having fun doing it.
– Andrea Swensen, City Pages
The Cloak Ox has a sound that is both their own and easily digested. They have cut their teeth enough to know that weird is cool, but having that groove, that sound, that feeling in the song is sometimes worth more than all of the chord changes and looping pedals in the world.
-Josh Keller, Reviler.org
