Despite being notorious for shrouding himself in secrecy, Mike Sniper, a.k.a. Blank Dogs, could not be any less mysterious in person. Contrary to popular belief, he has a face—and it breaks into wide smiles every chance it gets. Seated at a table in his Brooklyn kitchen on a recent afternoon, he chats amiably while chainchewing sticks of Solstice sugar-free gum.
“It’s funny how people can consider you mysterious just because you don’t put your name on everything,” he says. “I didn’t feel like dealing with image.You can throw all that shit at people, but who cares? At the very beginning it was conscious. I was like, ‘this might be fun.’ I never thought anyone would like [debut EP The First Two Weeks] anyway.”
Brimming with catchy hooks buried in lo-fi hiss, the record sold out its initial 490 copies quickly. A subsequent slew of releases on various tiny labels also flew out of print. Nothing fires mass hysteria like the feeling something’s being withheld, and soon fans were exchanging records on eBay for prices upwards of $200.Thinking all that a bit unnecessary, Sniper made his music available online. However, perhaps because postpunk enthusiasts like to pretend they’re ordering records from the back of a ‘zine in the late ‘80s, the aura of obscurity stuck. Antiimage morphed into an image of its own, which Sniper once again moved to undercut.
“There were definitely people that were only into it because of that, and that’s kind of silly too,” he says. “That’s when I made a decision to start playing live and stuff. I was like, OK, am I going to do something gimmicky? I plan on doing this for a long time, and then I’d have to do it all the time and it’ll be a deal when I don’t do it.’ I figured I might as well just start losing the mysteriousness altogether.”
Hence the birth of Blank Dogs’ live show. After re-working his songs to play with a band (on recordings, he plays all the instruments), Sniper has solidified his approach, with a rotating line-up of local musicians. He recently injected a dose of gloomy pop into the previously experimental-only No Fun Fest, and will be performing material from Under and Under, the double LP released June 2, at South Street Seaport and Union Pool. “I didn’t want to play shows for the longest time,” he says. “Now it’s good. It’s still not perfect but we’re getting there. Shows can be really fun.”
This is not to say Sniper isn’t still a solitary bedroom artist—he is—but he’s also part of a thriving, creative neo-post punk scene that includes the likes of Vivian Girls,Woods and Crystal Stilts. Dare one call it a community? “A community of idiots,” he laughs. “A lot of the bands I get lumped in with are kind of coming from different things, but I can see why [it happens]...I tend to like them.” After growing up alongside the New Jersey emo/straight edge scene of the early-to-mid ’90s, this is a welcome development for Sniper. “I haven’t liked as much current music ever as I do now, and I’m like 30,” he beams. “I don’t want it to go away.”
In this spirit, Sniper has begun releasing other bands’ music on his Captured Tracks label, which he founded to consolidate and controlling his own ever-growing catalog. “I’m mostly into doing first records of people,” he says. “I really like finding bands.” He’s also been collaborating feverishly; Under and Under includes backing vocals from Vivian Girls and some guitars from J.B. Townsend from Crystal Stilts. He’s also engaged in side projects with fellow solo artists Dum Dum Girls and Gary War. On the immediate horizon is a soundtrack music project with Townsend, which “of course is going to be spooky.” He claims to be slacking off as of late, “going to shows and drinking at bars and going to dinner every night,” but this seems true only by his own insane standards. For Mr. Blank Dogs, there’s no such thing as too many beautifully messy post-punk records.
