Register Forgot login?

© 2002-2024
Encyclopaedia Metallum

Privacy Policy

Wild Dogs > Man's Best Friend > Reviews
Wild Dogs - Man's Best Friend

Playful and innocent, much like a puppy - 78%

Gutterscream, January 9th, 2008
Written based on this version: 1984, 12" vinyl, Shrapnel Records

Wild Dogs’ quick and not really awaited return to the scene is a rockingly spirited, all American-sounding affair that from the first hard knock of “Livin’ on the Streets” to last salute “Stick to Your Guns” hardly ever lets loose of the pedal. While the debut could’ve been the soundtrack to a tractor pull or something, this nine-songer cruises the strip, its semi-hairsprayed doo blown around by formula party metal/rock that’s so mainstream-pertinent it’s almost uninteresting. Thankfully it’s totally ballad-less, though it sounds like one or two should be crammed in here somewhere, but such is the style of Man’s Best Friend.

Part of this is better than the debut. Okay, a lot of it is. McCourt and the rest of the kennel have planned a real strategy, one that’s as time-tested as it is prescribed with choruses streamlined by backing vox, topics well-traveled and rightfully shallow, and a (s)light speed metal pique that, except for black sheep “Believe in Me”, bares its canines only clandestinely. Less waywardly ramshackle than the debut, Man’s Best Friend is the cohesive next chapter. Spangled anthems such as “Rock’s not Dead”, “Endless Night”, hard chargin’ “Stick to your Guns”, and “Livin’ on the Streets” are eye-rollingly rampant, yet it’s hard to dismiss their catchiness. Then there’s “Believe in Me”, gritty as it grinds across the last moments of side one more speed metal than the whole album combined, the vocals are more harsh than trendily stylish, and is a song worthy of a Wild Dogs moniker, the overall look of the band (‘cause Matthew T.’s trying to look tough as hell), and an album cover that’s pretty on the ball yet simultaneously hilarious. Of all the tunes, the more or less ass to ass stinkers are generic “Not Stoppin’” and “Woman in Chains”, saved only by the fact they’re followed by strong part-time speedster “Beauty and the Beast” and fully shifted “Believe in Me”.

Still on the other hand, compared to the rest of metallic rock’s litter that was pacing the cage with similar behavior, there’s something weedy about the disc, something overriding the obvious glaze of hair mentality and party-hardy rock. While the debut wore its just ineptitude on its sleeve, this nine-songer is more intrinsic in its subtle ineffectiveness, like a guy wearing a $1000 suit who lives out of his car. It’s competent and all, but there’s still this ultimate impression of poverty that, as much as I’d like to gift wrap this album, is hard to shake. As well, while this stuff doesn’t sound forced, the sound really doesn’t suit them, and if you’ve seen the back cover photos, especially those of grimacing McCourt and proud n’ metallic Deen Castronova, you’d have a keener inkling of what I mean.

The much more metallic Reign of Terror would rise in three years with Castronova and Mark the only ones left still fighting for scraps. McCourt burns alive with Mayhem (US-OR), but ultimately becomes Dr. Mastermind (backed by Castronova).