10 Albums for City Living That Nation of Language Think Everyone Should Own

""In Manhattan, you cannot have it all," Nation of Language's Ian Devaney sang on the opening line of A Way Forward, the New York trio's 2021 sophomore album. Like that rather dramatic lyric suggests, the shadow of the city looms large in Nation of Language's discography. Their frenetic synth-pop sound mirrors the pace of the New York's crowded streets and busy intersections; the way big emotions tumble out of the band in climactic, cathartic fashion is akin to asking "can anyone hear me?" in sea of pedestrians, to being that person weeping on the subway."

"Dance Called Memory, Nation of Language's latest effort, is similarly made for the city; though instead of weeping in the subway, Dance Called Memory makes it feel like they're weeping in a large Broadway house, Devaney's booming baritone echoing right back at the listener with a touch of distance. Grief and personal lows were catalysts for the album's potent hues, but to mourn in the city is a complicated task. How do you move on when the city has already moved on without you, another day beginning and more work to be done?"

"But as they have on each of their four albums, the trio use each other as outlets. Alex MacKay's restless basslines root these songs in joy and motion, and each time Aidan Noell's voice pops in the fray, like on "In Another Life," it's angelic. Their infectious camaraderie in the face of anguish is what helps these songs float above the rising water, and the album then becomes a testament to creative pursuits."

Nation of Language is a Brooklyn synth-pop trio whose frenetic sound reflects New York's crowded streets and emotional intensity. Their music frames urban life as both exhilarating and isolating, turning large emotions into climactic, cathartic songs. Dance Called Memory channels grief and personal lows into theatrical, expansive arrangements, with Ian Devaney's booming baritone delivering echoing distance. Alex MacKay's restless basslines provide motion and joy, while Aidan Noell's occasional angelic voice offers contrast. The band's mutual support and camaraderie transform anguish into creative propulsion, and their visuals celebrate artists navigating and performing within the city.

Read at Consequence