Woof, the latest effort by Harley Alexander, operates with a laid-back ease that ebbs, jerks and flows through itself with all the breeze and innate topicality of a summer evening. It swings from oddball psychedelia to opaque lo-fi and stirring bedroom pop, jangling with occasional bursts of vocal exuberance and electric flourish.
Recorded over the fall of 2016 and winter of 2017, the album didn’t see its release until July of 2018. Its cover features the current Haligonian, crouching with a trio of shaggy dogs—their eyes barely visible. A shopping bag is pictured off in the corner of the foreground, likely abandoned there for the photo op.
The first track starts in the register of lo-fi folk, quickly dropping a bass line that jumps it into the next cut with propulsion and quirk, moving through slightly asymmetric beats and sweetly melodic picking. Elements of one song flow into another, like the transition of the intro into the immediate movement of the next track, or the carry on of the vibraslap motif from song two to song three. The numbers blend without seems or hesitation, creating a sweet and natural whole.
“Sad People” opens like a classic surf ballad, quickly merging with a feeling of vibrant pop and crescendoing with a chorus that would not feel out of place if sung by David Byrne. “Harold’s Mood” sways in an ambient, spacey trance while “Pat Gloom” sounds perfectly psychedelic, weaving elements of surf and dream-pop together with ethereal guitar. “Nothing to Learn” swims with elegance, speaking of finding grace and comfort in one’s own world.
The spirit of Woof is at its heart whimsical and delicate. No song on the album seems out of place or unfitting as they explore themes of relationships, friendship and comfort. It is breezy and affectless, perfectly demonstrating the observational keenness of a tender and talented artist at home in their space.