By August Edwards
The ungovernable Dog Jury released their first album, No Leashes No Masters, on Nov. 29th, in which they sing about stabbing, drowning, and shooting a dude at the mall. Sometimes they don’t sing—they scream.
The jury is comprised of drummer/vocalist Ryan Sciarrotta, bassist/vocalist Barney Lopez, and guitarist/vocalist Chris Walsh; each member sings lead at various points. This trio is solid, they possess this get-up-offa-that-thing energy. The album exists at the divine intersection of The Ramones and Jeff Rosenstock—tough, funny, and unforgettable.
"The goal of this project is to make artistic-shit," says Lopez, "it's not a pretty project. It's supposed to be raw and unleashed. It's an outlet for honest expression without regard for what sounds 'good'. That being said, the riffs are still riffing and the hooks are still hooking. It’s just they don’t have to if we don’t want them to.”
“Bad Tattoo” is a great addition to the great catalogue of songs that mention chili dogs. The vocals on this song are indeed shouty—as such, confident. I can imagine a group of friends around a microphone, unleashing all these demons. “We wanted it to be like a Beastie Boys record,” says Lopez. “It’s a total party with a lot of screaming and angst. The whole project has been refreshing for me to get my guts out there vocally. There’s a zen to all the screaming.”
The soul-stirring singalong that is “Stab” boxes yer eardrums with every emphatic iteration of “STAB.” There’s also this beautiful alarm-like quality in the guitar tone—bells not ringing but raging. “Stab” is hilarious and insolent and, above all, terrifying in its relatability. “Saw this guy hanging out at the bar and he was acting really fucking rude / Says he knows the bartender, bartender doesn’t know this dude.” We all know a “dweeb” like this (and maybe many of us have been that dweeb on at least one occasion). It’s the way those lyrics are spat out, the intrigue of the story, and the excellence of the composition that make “Stab” one of the best songs I’ve ever heard.
Even though No Leashes No Masters decides to be unpretty, it still features functionally pretty components. Traditionally, if a singer sings in falsetto, that tone should perhaps float above the music. In “Shallows,” the airy falsetto hangs out at the same level as the low, grinding bass. It’s playful yet menacing. Menacing in a similar way, “Projector” barks at you. The song tosses you around—like, I’m imagining limbs flailing. In all honesty, I can’t understand a single word of the lyrics, but the beat and the bark are just so alluring that it doesn’t matter.
For a band comprised of guys who’ve for sure spent uncountable time playing music for people in bars, they needed a bar song, and I think “Rich Dad” fulfills that need. You can belt it, yell it, headbang, all that. The refrain “Dad’s got money” catches steam at an impressive pace, cinching that anthemic nature.
“Everything is Fine” is practically sung through gritted teeth. The bitterness is sort of seductive, I think because of how convincing it is. Not that it’s convincing that “everything is fine,” rather, the obstinance is real. Paired with the squeaky falsetto serving as a perverse harmony, a certain truth is evident—everything is not fine, and that was obvious all along.
The final song of No Leashes No Masters, “After School,” transported my ass back to being a kid—something about the drum’s feverish train beat counting in the animated strings, something about not knowing what to do about loneliness. “Be my friend” is a moving lyrical concept, and it’s delivered with a proper screech. The vibe here contrasts with the previous song. It’s a strength of the album, it doesn’t feel like you’re listening to the same song for 26 minutes and 5 seconds.
If we look at the pioneering band in the death metal genre Crass, a fusion of punk and metal, I’d say Penis Envy has a similar flair—where sonic range creates a terrain of mountains and canyons. Given lyrics and stories about death and dying, and general disregard for sounding pleasant, present are the elements of a veritable death metal album. I’m not saying we have a death metal album on our hands, but maybe it’s dogfood for thought.
Death metal or not death metal, No Leases No Masters is cool, and you should listen to this album. Listen to it whatever way you can—through lo-fi speakers, through your computer at work, while you hang out with your friends. Play it loud through your car speakers with your windows rolled down even though it’s December so pedestrians can hear you, so cars stopped with you at red lights can hear it too. Just live a little.
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