Dag För Dag – Boo

Dag För Dag – Boo

Tagged as something ‘American-Swedish’, brother-sister duo Dag För Dag is probably well aware of the misconceptions their brand of music receives. For Sarah Snavely and brother Jacob the music is a firm representation of their swirling time together and, with their debut album Boo, the music is a solid documentation. Although the music is definitely influenced by an international vibe, the focus begins with keyboard-driven melodies that align with massive walls of noise for a reception of thunder. Through it all the tandem ends up creating an eclectic blend of songs on their debut LP for a promising effort.

The band’s name directly means ‘day by day’ and the Snavelys are embellishing their music with a day by day nature that calls for a broad array of styles. Some songs like “Boxed Up in Pine” feature strings and a driving bass line as Jacob’s leading vocals are paired with Sarah’s soft harmony in the background. Surrounding the tones with an atmospheric pressure that calls on layers of guitars and synths, the songs contain an almost ethereal quality. Other times, as on the Warpaint-like “Light on Your Feet,” the duo scales back to reveal a lonely guitar and Sarah’s evenly lonely vocals. But on both dissimilar songs, each voice carries through and shares a fair amount of the spotlight for what is definitely a combining effort.

Although there are times when the bonding of their two voices is nearly misaligned, like on the clunky “Silence as the Verb”, where Jacob is left sounding awkward against an almost country chug of a guitar. The song passes by as if it never happened and, although the repetitive aura lingers in the back of one’s head, “Seven Stories” propels forward with a song that almost sounds like a new version of Garbage. It’s obvious Sarah’s vocals are the ones with the widest range and, thus, they mark far more momentous occasions; fortunately, they’re taken advantage of for the most part.

Free-shifting and shape-forming as the songs come and go, Boo is never as its title depicts: a bad time. Instead, the music is rung through such a rigid ride of energy that the duo seems to supply an infinite amount of diversity. By the time you get to the heart-spouting, fire-breathing stomp of “Cry, Cry” and its pounding percussion, the album has already taken you on a relentless journey that, like those drums, pounds with intensity. The growling guitar is a fervent support system to Sarah’s singing of “Cry, cry, nobody wants you.” In the most peculiar of ways, the album’s closing song is a rush of blood to the head with a depressing nod and, although the murkiness comes tenfold, there wouldn’t be any other way to end it.

Ceremony Recordings