If any producer could incorporate his voice into his music innovatively, it would be
Clark. He's used the voices of others in his work to striking effect, most notably on 2021's haunting
Playground in a Lake, and on
Sus Dog, the addition of his vocals doesn't detract from his work's complexity.
Clark seizes the opportunity to express himself in a new way on his tenth album, and after hearing how he weaves his raspy, slightly wavering tenor into its tracks, it's almost disappointing that he didn't make this move sooner. Wisely, he doesn't change his overall approach radically; instead of relying overly on familiar song structures,
Sus Dog feels as exploratory as his instrumental work, albeit with an extra emotional dimension. The themes he muses on -- finding one's voice, looking for the truth -- are a perfect fit for his mind-opening approach on "Alyosha," which juxtaposes searching vocals and breaths shaped into beats with some of
Clark's most fearsome synth arpeggios since
Death Peak, and on "Town Crank," which comes the closest to the producer's brief for the album ("what if the
Beach Boys took MDMA and played a rave?") with its rippling tones, forceful beats, and lush harmonies. Though
Clark adopts a slightly more straightforward approach on the introspective pop of "Dismissive" and the
Bibio-like outpouring of melody on "Dolgoch Tape,"
Sus Dog also features moments that might even be more surprising than his instrumental work. Chief among them is "Bully," a winding journey from everyday despair to hope that uses the lowest and highest parts of
Clark's vocal register to stunningly psychedelic effect, but throughout
Sus Dog it feels like he's opened the doors to any and all artistic possibilities. On "Forest," he contrasts rattling ambient drones and strings with the rawness of field recordings with pure a cappella harmonies that sound like nothing he's ever done before. Some unmistakable voices help push him further out of his comfort zone:
Thom Yorke, who also executive produced the album, appears on "Medicine," a suite-like piece that rivals
Radiohead when it comes to brooding grandeur.
Anika lends her smoky alto to the low-slung, skittering title track, which resembles a distant descendant of
Body Riddle's ghostly atmospheres and suggests a full-length collaboration would have a lot to offer. Tellingly, the album's pair of instrumentals ("Over Empty Streets" and "Wedding") are well-crafted, but they feel almost anticlimactic compared to the risks
Clark takes elsewhere. After several years' worth of darker and more obviously thematic work like
Playground in a Lake,
Kiri Variations, and
Daniel Isn't Real, it makes sense that he'd want to make something more eclectic and exploratory, and
Sus Dog's exhilarating creativity is a testament to trusting the process. ~ Heather Phares