Death From Above (sometimes with a 1979, and sometimes not), despite their hiatus in between records, are entering their third decade of creating heavy hitting style of dance-punk, but it sure doesnât feel like it. Though the topics may change as drummer/vocalist Sebastien Grainger and bassist/synth jockey Jesse F. Keeler find themselves navigating the realm of settled life, the bandâs style has never shied away from the DIY-style garage feel – for better or worse. But while âOutrage is Nowâ saw the band finding their footing as it moved away from that âflying by the seat of their pantsâ era into a more mature, focused space, âIs 4 Loversâ takes all that growth and returns to 2004 once more to see it applied to that dance-punk sound that made the pair great, to immense success.
Where âOutrage is Nowâ leaned away from some of the more punk elements of old, âIs 4 Loversâ leans back towards them with wild lust. DFA never lost their edge moving to a more traditional rock sound, but seeing âMean Streetsâ going all in on the manic energy will see you shocked back into the mid ’00s. Thatâs not to say that the pair havenât abandoned those wild hard rock influences altogether. âFree Animalâ celebrates them proudly as Keelerâs iconic screeching bassline leads one of the album’s more quirky tracks (British rock duos take note here: more songs with backing cowbell percussion please). âNYC Power Eliteâ parts 1 & 2 continue on with some rather tongue-in-cheek lyricism (âI havenât carried cash since 9/11⌠I havenât eaten cake since last electionâ) and solidify this notion that the duo have learnt a lot of lessons from their 2017 record.
Yet at the same time itâs deeply refreshing to see Keeler and Grainger explore the âdanceâ side of dance-punk a bit more than OiN did. As a rather contrasting pair of musicians (Keeler making a name as part of the electronic outfit MSTRKRFT and Grainger exploring more alt avenues with his solo projects), seeing the musical dichotomy and watching the two play off each otherâs strengths to form something exotcially unique is always a delight, and here the electronica shines like gold. âGlass Housesâ is perhaps the best example here, led by a truly f-u-n-k-y, almost chiptune-era keyboard riff. Itâs no less intense than the punk-heavy tracks of the record, indeed, the amount of substance these additional elements give this album lead to a much more dynamic heaviness. They even present DFA with something of a stylistic advantage on the softer side of things, such as âLove Letterâ, with its Cold War Kids piano line playing off the neon-soaked synths in a rare moment of rest for the band.Â
Production wise, thereâs a lot to get excited over. There are still some of those jarring transitions lingering from previous outings that give the album a more uneven pace than expected, and some of that precious momentum is lost just before its grand cacophonic closing track âNo Warâ, but the pairâs manic energy is anything but poorly mixed. One of the curses that inevitably plagues every rock duo is the need to cover a sparse soundscape by soaking the music in a layer of distortion. Fortunately, the bass and keys on âIs 4 Loversâ are lively and robust enough to shine through of their own accord, distortion only ever serving to complement the duoâs sharp instrumentals, never to blanket them. Thereâs very little fat to be trimmed here, but everything feels very loose and open, always keeping the record from ever feeling empty.Â
DFAâs discography is perhaps their most telling sign of clear growth throughout a decade and half of noise. The exuberantly youthful sound of âYou’re a Woman, I’m a Machineâ. The attempt at reclaiming that same sound 10 years on with âThe Physical Worldâ. A turning point in maturity in âOutrage Is Nowâ. Every part of DFAâs history culminates here, in a flurry of funk and punk, and while Keeler and Grainger keeping a 15-year flurry of energy alive through ever-evolving electronic hard rock wonât surprise those who have followed the band closely through their comeback years, itâs nevertheless a joy to be reminded that outrage isnât dead, it just learned how to dance.
FIACHRA JOHNSTON