Dance Called Memory

Synthpop, minimal wave, post-punk, goth, new romantic — fans and critics alike have dug deeply into their vintage thesauruses 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 prodigious in expanding what synthesizer-driven music can evoke, such that his output is as much an extrasensory journey as it is an all-too-human destination. With that experience in mind, he wrote the band’s fourth album — the spectral, spacious Dance Called Memory — in the most humble of ways: chipping away at melancholia by sitting around and 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), came as pandemic godsends: gorgeous, relatable soundtracks to our collective doldrums. But it was their last LP, Strange Disciple (2023), that catapulted the group from cultur