Despite its name, in Music For Dogs you won’t find high pitched whistles only canines can hear. As far as we know, at least.
Gone too are the tightly controlled and driven, pulsing melodies of 2014’s brilliant and powerful Dunes. The delightfully wild erraticism and uniqueness of its flute and many of the delightfully shocking falsettos are absent as well. Gardens & Villa, now a duo, have moved away from the alternating Tim Goldsworthy-produced dance pop hooks and synth-soothing minimalism to return to their roots, yet their retreat seems haphazard at times. While before their high energy tracks exuded a sort of sexy confidence, the more frantic tracks on Music For Dogs feel as if they’re being chased by their own ambitions, looking over their own shoulder all the while.
After a bubblingly synthetic "Intro" catapults you into "Maximize Results" you’re whisked into vocalist Chris Lynch forcefully inviting “Looking for love I can take you there / Pushing my luck I can take you there,” seemingly embarking on something promising as his voice rises in pitch to a piercingly frenetic crescendo over quickly hammered keys.
The following track, leading single and pop highlight "Fixations," is an interesting anomaly in the way that it eschews both Dunes' inspired, hard-hitting drama and Music For Dogs' chaos with a much looser and more playful vibe, especially echoed by the video reminiscent of the Warhol-esque psychedelic party scene in Midnight Cowboy. Acting as the middle portion of a one-two-three punch with "Everybody" marching in at the rear, we begin to hear the paranoia implicit throughout much of the record vocalized: “Everybody wants the new you / Nobody cares who you are / Taking pictures of the new you / Watching you from afar / Everybody wants to use you." This sort of discontent commentary on a paparazzo-style culture of music consumption and the fickleness of an industry in which they recently experienced rejection from both their label and disillusioned significant others, it conceives an idea that one would anticipate going on to form the backbone of the LP, but strangely seems to peter out.
The momentum slows after this, as Gardens & Villa mix in the introspective self-help mantras of "Paradise"’s “I wanna believe that I’m trying everything / It could be me someday / I’m gonna find my paradise” with the more literally grounded “Alone In The City,” in which the band, having recently relocated to LA, deliver some of the record's most rousing vocals as Lynch cries out “Do you feel alright?” It's genuine soul-searching, though it's clear the duo might feel more comfortable in their own skin if they could just pin down exactly where it is.
Bookended by “General Research”’s brief resurgence of the iconic flute of old (this was the first time I've ever listened to an album and thought “Wow, I wish this had more flute”) and the monotonous “Jubilee” cleverly mentioning our “terminal verbosity” slogan within the din, is standout track “Express.” And it indeed feels like an express, opening with drum set locomotion like its brother “Bullet Train” (from Dunes) before passing straight by any unnecessary stops. “Express" propels us back to the suaveness we love Gardens & Villa for best, complete with punchy guitar and Lynch articulating that it’s “time comes to express your feelings” while his haunting vocal specters do just that even better than words.
It's hard to put your finger on exactly why Music For Dogs feels like a step back despite these bright moments. “I wanna believe that I’m trying everything” Lynch croons, and though some of the glittering texture and synth soundscapes are there, they now feel like the exception instead of the rule, having taken a backseat to more traditional measures. You can’t help but wonder if the short 36 minute runtime feels a bit rushed because it was, with the album being written and recorded so shortly after their previous full length and the subsequent Richard Swift-aided Televisor EP (which, by the way, is too often overlooked).
We only eventually catch a glimpse of the lingering regrets of the duo’s two ended relationships at the very end in "I Already Do,” a melancholic yet optimistic sign off. Suddenly the LP feels like it only narrowly missed being a breakup album, with “I still never deleted all my photos of you / Keep them in my pocket but I’m never scrolling through” firmly dating the record in 2015. Lynch’s declaration of “It’s so hard to breathe when you’re always on the move” speaks volumes about where their transitions in sound, location, and romance have left them, yet there’s little resolution: in cathartically lilting "I’m gonna miss everyone / I think I already do” he leaves it unclear whether Music For Dogs is a beginning or an end.