At its conception, Nation of Language was directly inspired by Ian Devaney hearing his father play Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark's "Electricity" upon returning home following the dissolution of his band the Static Jacks. Switching from a pop-punk-leaning indie rock to a glistening merger of murky post-punk and brooch-bedecked synth pop, he teamed up with new bandmates and producer Abe Seiferth (Yeasayer, Computer Magic) for a well-received debut, Introduction, Presence (2020), that led to a record deal with PIAS and ...
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At its conception, Nation of Language was directly inspired by Ian Devaney hearing his father play Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark's "Electricity" upon returning home following the dissolution of his band the Static Jacks. Switching from a pop-punk-leaning indie rock to a glistening merger of murky post-punk and brooch-bedecked synth pop, he teamed up with new bandmates and producer Abe Seiferth (Yeasayer, Computer Magic) for a well-received debut, Introduction, Presence (2020), that led to a record deal with PIAS and sold-out headlining dates. Featuring tracks produced separately by Seiferth and Holy Ghost!'s Nick Millhiser, the follow-up, A Way Forward, mostly retains that album's contrived, early '80s-inclined surfaces and efficient bass grooves while dipping into earlier Krautrock and experimental influences. Opening track "In Manhattan," for example, serves as an exposition more than a song, with Devaney's weary, half-spoken vocals ("In Manhattan, you cannot have it all") appearing over programmed arpeggiated chords and deeper, throbbing synth tones. The track's spacious instrumentation gradually expands to include a 16th-note hi-hat pattern and pulsing, pitched voice samples. Unearthly, layered sung vocals eventually rise above the rest before being overtaken by buzzy synths -- though the ceaseless arpeggiation wins out in the end. The intro's amorphous structure and heterogeneous timbres open the door for more experimentation, if the rest of the songs land squarely in '80s U.K. radio territory. Among the poppier standouts are midtempo heartbreaker "Wounds of Love," a borderline hum-along track with its oh-oh-oh backing countermelody, and the more staccato, robotic "This Fractured Mind." Taking a slightly darker, punkier turn, "Across That Fine Line" adds woven synths and guitar to its worried choruses as bobbing heads continue to gallop along with its brisk syncopated bass and tinny snare. Sociopolitical anxiety informs "The Grey Commute," while the self-examining "Former Self" substitutes an era-appropriate synth voice for harpsichord on a quasi-Baroque lament. That song eventually adds low string tones and clattering found-object-type percussion. The detailing and variable arrangements here, combined with engaging songs, lift A Way Forward above the level of genre exercise, occasionally into something more compositional, as on the final two tracks. Meanwhile, lyrics like "Do you think that I could simulate my life/But done a better way?" maybe never went out of fashion. ~ Marcy Donelson, Rovi
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