Dancing Plague
Domain
Artoffact Records
Of the electro-darkwave acts that have emerged from the US in the last decade, Dancing Plague occupies a fairly unique musical territory. Conor Knowles’ earliest work with the project was of a darker and more lo-fi strain, with opaque textures to match the bleak and depressive tone of the material. However each successive release has sharpened the programming and production, while Knowles pushed his grave vocals into still more dramatic territory. Domain, the Portland-based artist’s first LP for Artoffact Records serves as a solid marker of how far the project has come in the near decade of its existence; the songs are dark, propulsive and mixed sharply with an ear towards the dancefloor, with Knowles’ portentous singing sounding its most natural and confident.
A big part of the record’s appeal lies in its economy, with songs establishing themselves quickly and cleanly, and lasting only as long as they need to. That goes for both its busiest and sparsest moments; opener “With You I Am Nothing”‘s electro-industrial style bassline, gated lead and fat kick-snare pattern goes hard from the moment the beat drops, shifting into its snarled hook only once before ending, while the skeletal electro of “Silence” makes good use of the space between its drum hits and synth parts to compliment its moody, foreboding tone. It’s only on the reserved penultimate track “I Used to Feel” that the record feels like it’s taking its time, making its way gradually if not slowly to an understated and emotional climax, where a wounded Knowles intoning “There’s something wrong” with a dolefulness that belies his usually strident delivery.
When we reviewed last year’s Elogium we noted that the project’s vocal style could well be the make or break for many listeners. In observing the project in concert and being played clubs, it’s become clear that the deep, melodramatic delivery is one of Dancing Plague’s most appealing features, a fact driven home by how well they fit on Domain. The low-growl of “Bitter Taste”‘s verse works as an offset for its heavenly choral pads and busy cymbals, a contrast for the sorrowful way Knowles belts out every word on closer “Veins”, sending the record off with uniquely dour bombast. And that’s Dancing Plague’s appeal in a nutshell; the balance of well-structured, efficient and upbeat electronics and the sheer moroseness of the performance make are a potent mixture, and never moreso than here.
