Nation of Language

Nation of Language

Synthpop, minimal wave, post-punk, goth, new romantic - fans and critics alike dig deep into their vocabularies to describe the beguiling work of Nation of Language. And if you can't precisely define the band, that's the point. Frontman Ian Richard Devaney has become masterful at expanding what synthesizer-driven music can evoke, such that his output is both an extrasensory journey and a profoundly human experience. With that in mind, he wrote the band's fourth album - the spectral, spacious "Dance Called Memory" - in the simplest way: chipping away at melancholia by strumming his guitar. "It's a great way to distract yourself," he says, "when you are depressed."

Nation of Language's first two albums, "Introduction, Presence" (2020) and "A Way Forward" (2021), arrived as pandemic lifelines: gorgeous, relatable soundtracks to our collective despair. But their last LP, "Strange Disciple" (2023), catapulted the group from cultural standouts to critical darlings, with the album named Rough Trade's Album of the Year. Pitchfork wrote then that the band "are learning what it means to get bigger and better."

This is Devaney's calling: soulfully translating individual despair into a comforting, collective mourning. This atmosphere pervades the album. The single "Now That You're Gone," which radiates with devastating wistfulness, was inspired by witnessing his godfather's tragic death from ALS and his parents' role as caretakers for this ailing friend. "To be a caretaker - transforming your home into a kind of hospital wing and structuring your life around the dire needs of another - is such a difficult, powerful act of love and friendship," Devaney says. "It's made more difficult by our economic system that doesn't seem to value this in any way commensurate with how hard it is." At its heart, the song reflects how friends can be there for each other.