‘Dogs In Heaven’ – Silver Gore Album Review

When I looked them up beforehand, Silver Gore’s online presence was mysterious: no music released on streaming, and generally little information available about the band. So I was going in blind when I saw them earlier this year at Project House, opening for the (always excellent) Mount Kimbie. But I immediately knew that I loved their sound: celestial synthpop with a playfully off-kilter energy, and clear talent in both vocals and production.

Silver Gore is the new project of Ethan P. Flynn – an established producer who has worked with big names including FKA twigs and David Byrnes – and Ava Gore, a classically trained singer-drummer. They’re a real life couple, and on stage they complement each other well: Flynn is a stolid presence in a heavy coat, hardly moving, whereas Gore has an almost aggressive energy, throwing herself around the stage with a determined intensity. 

It’s immensely satisfying to re-listen to songs that you’ve only ever heard live. So I was counting down the days when Silver Gore announced their debut EP, Dogs in Heaven, which came out on September 12. There’s another dimension of polish, without losing the raw energy of a live performance, especially in the vocals. Gore has impressive control over her voice, hitting achingly high notes, and songs such as the titular ‘Dogs in Heaven’ really showcase her range. But I appreciate the fact that, while evidently very competent at what they do, these musicians aren’t afraid to have some fun.

‘All the Good Men’, probably the most ‘pop’ song on the EP, is equal parts sunny and caustic. The cheerful refrain ‘I just keep trying ’cause I’m confident’ feels anthemic and life-affirming, yet when followed by ‘All the good men died on the continent’ it takes on a more wry, cynical tone. Apparently this song is about the Sisyphean horrors of online dating. Yes, possibly there are no good men left on the planet, or at least not on Hinge. 

It’s a shame that the opening track, ‘A Scar’s Length’, was probably my least favourite – the twinkly, chipper synth and jangly guitar feel a little out of character compared to the intense, reverberating choruses of other tracks such as ‘Forever’. But there’s still something intriguingly obscure about the lyrics. ‘I haven’t listened to a song since 2021’ – what does this cheerfully opaque declaration mean? A monk-like abstinence from music? A rough patch with songmaking? Perhaps her Spotify subscription went up and she couldn’t justify renewing it? 

Elsewhere, ‘elephant’ becomes ‘ele-phone’ as Gore playfully rhymes with ‘on my own’. It’s possible that some might find this grating, but to me it comes across as pleasingly tongue-in-cheek. The more downtempo ‘Celestial Intervention’, which has an almost lullaby-like quality, is about some kind of disastrous meteorite heading for Earth. Gore sings of the rock, ‘It’s like a home but bigger […] I see it as a trigger / I can move it with my fingers’. There’s a delightful mix between bizarre and sensitive songwriting on this EP, and I can see Silver Gore sitting comfortably alongside other ‘weird’ pop such as that from Wet Leg or CMAT. 

The final track, ‘25 Metres’ was one that I’d found especially entrancing live – a song about standing on the edge of a swimming pool, afraid to dive in, which becomes a powerful rumination on the support of loved ones in the face of uncertainty. Flynn rarely sings on this EP, but his deep, resonant voice feels enveloping at the end of the song, as he repeats the strangely mesmerising refrain ‘The original motherfucker / A headstrong little brother’ around Gore’s hushed repetitions of ‘Then I feel your arms around me’. Sonically, this feels like a moment where everything is coming together. Dogs in Heaven feels fleeting at only six songs, half of which are under three minutes long. But it doesn’t overstay its welcome.

Words By Rowan Morrow