#destroymyself

Ezra Furman is largely unknown. Once the frontman of Ezra Furman and The Harpoons, he made the brave choice to go (mostly) solo in 2012 with the aptly titled The Year Of No Returning, and came back again this year with this thirteen song follow-up, Day of The Dog. Taking the best bits of the past five decades of guitar-battering, drum-slapping, hand-clapping rock’n’roll, from the early days of hillbilly music to the latest wave of indie-rock, Day of The Dog is a frantic and excitable record. Furman’s croaking, gurgling vocals hark back to early seventies American punk; a bratty screech that sets this album aside from the usual indie singer-songwriter fare, turning gripes into tantrums and nostalgia into regret and self-destruction. This angst, often whiney and misery-making on many an indie output, becomes gleeful and mischievous when combined with steel guitar, honky-tonk piano and the unexpected use of the often crowd-dividing saxophone. It would be as welcome in a cartoonised Wild West romp as it would be in the next Fox Searchlight film. The dramatic climbs in tempo and panicked singing, coupled with woozy horns and fuzzy guitars bring this otherwise classic rock’n’roll album smack bang into the current day. A nice antidote to the worn out Christmas pop and the sickly sweet John Lewis adverts that are rolled out at this time of year, Day of The Dog should be heard by more people, and may find its way onto many year-end lists. It probably won’t find it’s way onto popular radio and I hope it doesn’t; music this natural and lyrics this honest aren’t made for the big time. As I listen to the album for the sixth time I realise that this music and those lyrics are made for the small hours, the short bursts and the repeat button.