Album Review: Nation of Language - 'Dance Called Memory'
Nation of Language never slow down and never stand still in this album about the human experience and memory in an age of AI, borrowing as much from My Bloody Valentine as Kraftwerk.
Synth pop sensations Nation of Language return with their flexible charm and nature that has made them so appealing – the soulful, introspective individual despair aligns Dance Called Memory, an album designed to look back and forward simultaneously. Can’t Face Another One kicks things off, melodic and appealing – and we’re followed immediately by In Another Life and Silhouette, offering up a catchy, appealing return to the Nation of Language of the first two albums. The band have never been one to define themselves by formula and Dance Called Memory feels like it pushes the boat out even further, reinventing themselves from the early escape of the tracks of old.
Now That You’re Gone is the first heavy hitter; devastating and heartbreaking – frontman Ian Richard Devaney taps into the real pain of the death of his godfather from ALS, and his parents being caretakers. It’s heartbreaking “to transform your room home into a hospital wing,” but at the same time, the ultimate display of love, friendship and affection. There are influences of My Bloody Valentine or Kraftwerk, touches of Brian Eno at every turn. The sonic foundation of Eno’s work influences this record heavily – the humanity of Eno’s work grounding it and keeping it a touch different; and grounded from Kraftwerk’s out-of-body experience. This is after all – A Dance Called Memory – Nation of Language are never stuck in one place for too long; never staying still. Now That You’re Gone is wistful and devastating; gorgeously heartbreaking.
That resonates in I’m Not Ready for the Change, a track that examines the group of old friends who had gone their separate way. It’s sometimes an unavoidable fact of life – you cannot have a falling out and still separate from each other – and the fact that you aren’t always ready for it feels like some adapting still has to be done. This is where Nation of Language are at their most My Bloody Valentine-esque, utilising human feelings in an age of “AI supplementing human creators”. It’s a uniquely human album – and all the better for that – instead of hopelessness, Devaney is crafting something unique – a dance of shared connection, of memory – rich and contextual. Never has it been more important to embrace our collective togetherness and Nation of Language thrive off giving complex human feelings a unique synth sound that separates their work from what has came before. The call and response that comes with Can You Reach Me? Only emphasises this connection – one of the best tracks on the album. There’s also I’m Your Head, just as anthemic and appropriately mental – a song that once more reaches up and grapples with the human experience.
The pairing with Death Cab for Cutie on the North American leg of their tour is an odd one ahead of a European run that includes a date at London’s iconic Roundhouse; but it works, and my favourite track, Inept Apollo, starts to give off those vibes. It’s fresh, upbeat and lively. It shows Nation of Language’s versatility between a stadium ready band and artists capable of transforming their own arenas into something more unique and detailed.
The band have had odder pairings before – they supported IDLES in Australia; with Under the Water being the last one to make the cut from that tour – a post punk overload that feels like a cold shower; maximising the synth for an instant appeal. At once anxious and hopeful; the cold realisation with a best friend where you kind of twig that there’s something deeper there and there’s an unspoken connection.
As a record that preserves the human experience; Dance Called Memory is a resounding triumph that flows expertly from beginning to end; pushing Nation of Language in ways both new and familiar.
Words by Miles Milton-Jefferies
