(KTLA) — It’s been five years since indie pop band Nation of Language debuted (during the pandemic, no less) with their stellar, “Introduction, Presence.” In that time, the Brooklyn-based outfit has cultivated its own sonic lane by combining a dreamy, somewhat ’80s synthscape with earthy, modern live instrumentation to create music that feels nostalgic for a time that never existed.
The band’s fourth album, “Dance Called Memory,” released via Sub Pop on Sept. 19, follows up 2023’s peppy and confident “Strange Disciple,” by building on its experimentation, incorporating new and unexpected sounds and song constructions that feel both new to the band but also within its wheelhouse.
Upon first listen, fans and new listeners alike might be struck by the album’s heaviness, which takes the band, while always intimate and lyrically rich, down emotional roads yet trod. The gorgeous but heart-wrenching album opener, “Can’t Face Another One,” finds lead singer Ian Richard Devaney’s ever-thoughtful and delicate vocals seemingly drowning in a lonely-but-beautiful vista of depression — and the dread of more days to come.
Nation of Language itself acknowledged the tonal shift back in a June Instagram post, where they explained the album would be “mostly about loss and death and working through some really dark sh-t.”
But this shouldn’t suggest the album is sluggish or difficult to listen to. The band’s pop sensibilities and breathtaking sound walls are present and more polished than ever, and there’s still plenty of light peeking through the dark.
Songs like, “Now That You’re Gone,” lament someone’s absence — either figuratively or physically — and though the lyrics, written by Devaney, reflect feelings of loss, musically, the song feels more even-keeled. A continuous electric guitar riff carries the listener through the groove, which is punctuated by synth claps that sound like winter shaking off the cold. The band’s previously mentioned New Order as an influence, and that sound’s especially strong here.
Then there’s tracks like lead single “Inept Apollo” and fourth single, “In Your Head,” which a bring the breezy danciness of songs from the band’s first two albums. “In Your Head,” arguably one of the album’s best, unites sorrowful lyrics with an exuberant burst of vocals, an infectious bubbling synth, and a straight-up rock guitar element. It’s as if clouds are parting.
Meanwhile, “Under the Water,” an album highlight, makes a great case for Nation of Language having the ability to be the biggest pop band on the planet but choosing to do something else instead. This glittering spectacle of a song has all the enormity of a movie soundtrack song, particularly one that would play during an exhilarating finale. Think Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark’s “If You Leave” or Simple Minds’ “Don’t You (Forget About Me).” But rather than allow the track to drive toward a massive pop chorus or hook, NOL keeps the feeling intimate and more like a moment between two people, versus something that would be chanted in an arena. (Though it certainly deserves to be).
As with real-life depression, however, there will be moments of darkness even after bursts of light.
Album closer “Nights of Weight,” retreats back into a place of sadness, but at a remove. Instead of an all-encompassing heaviness, Devaney’s truly gorgeous vocal sounds as if we’ve reached a place of perspective, of something akin to catharsis — though not quite. The track features a beautifully haunting synth mix, a very welcome flute, more acoustic-sounding guitars, and some vocal stacks and melody patterns that would make the Beach Boys proud. It’s a meditative and moving wrap up to a big emotional journey.
Though perhaps less immediate than its predecessor, “Dance Called Memory” is a major level-up from a band that has achieved this with each release. The album doesn’t reach out to you, it pulls you in to tell you more. It’s confessional and honest without ever getting bogged down in its own sorrow. More than any other Nation of Language release, “Dance” rewards multiple listens. Devaney and bandmates Alex MacKay and Aidan Noell are spinning many tonal plates at once on each track and doing it well.
If miscalibrated, this could easily have been a rare misfire. Nation of Language instead gives us a perfectly sequenced journey through the hard times. “Dance Called Memory” isn’t the Nation of Language album you’ll put on to party. You’ll party once you feel better. You’ll listen to this ’til then.
Score: 8.9/10.