Review: A Giant Dog, Bite

A Giant Dog's past decade of songs never dealt much in time-warping, outer space kitsch. The closest instance was in performance, where bandleader Sabrina Ellis' mesmerizing, erratic musings on a sticky early adulthood begot a gnarled continuum. But on the group's first original album in six years, Bite, the out-of-body fantasy becomes much more literal. As introduced by scene-setting theme "Welcome to Avalonia," A Giant Dog's sixth effort is an ambitious concept album, a loose expedition through a not-so-far-off technocratic horror. The space-age hero's tale indirectly serves a big middle finger to the tech bro-ification of Austin. "Reality will find the end and feast/ Feel the plug in through your teeth," Ellis winces alongside guitarist and co-writer Andrew Cashen. The sonic battlefield offers fitting ground for Ellis' knightly stardom. String arrangements slice through expansive synth waves while the band weaponizes operatic falsetto, stone-cold glam rock, and warped power chords. Nearly too much to be contained on a single LP, Bite's sci-fi theatrics belong on a stage. Per usual, A Giant Dog remains committed to debauchery – in fact, it's essential to the narrative. "Your sin is your salvation," Ellis urges on revelatory "A Daydream," a praise of heathens that turns a sharp eye at envious angels. As the narrator confronts their imminent reality ("Technology, eventually, will have us all replaced"), they dance in primal curiosities ("I'd rather stare at somebody than stare into the void"). Concluding with spoken goodbyes in myriad languages like the golden phonograph record shipped off on the Voyager, Bite writes an at times gratuitous love letter to humanity while traversing a baroque space age. And what is a rock opera if not gratuitous?

A Giant Dog

Bite (Merge)