“It’s nice to be back!”, mumbled Nation of Language frontman Ian Richard Devaney as he faced the New Century Hall crowd. With eyes gleaming in the stage lights, and a smile stretching across his features, it was clear that he really meant it.
Nation of Language’s gig at New Century Hall, noticeably larger and more ambitious than their last Manchester outing last December at Gorilla, felt like a spiritual homecoming show for the now-veteran synth-poppers. Their music only continues to develop, but, at their core, the trio remain a group of music enthusiasts sharing New Order records. It’s really no wonder, then, that Manchester has welcomed them with open arms.
The first thing to note about Nation of Language is their sense of sparseness – both physically and musically. It may seem like a strange thing to comment on, but so few artists have a mastery over the elusive element of sparseness. Precise, intelligent and tight-knit, the electronic trio use their finite means to their advantage in opening number ‘Spare Me The Decision’.
By record number three, most acts would have upgraded to a four-piece, or a five-piece line-up – sneakily hiding backing guitarists amidst the crevasses of the stage to increase the depth and breadth of their sound. Nation of Language, on the other hand, remain committed to their compact, minimal lineup. Devaney’s tetchy frame strutted in the centre, with keyboardist Aidan Noelle’s synthesiser wizardry, and bassist Alex MacKay’s lilting, melodic masterstrokes stretched out across the stage’s periphery. New Century’s stage was powerfully empty beside these three figures.
Their sound, of course, follows the same philosophy, with the new LP A Strange Disciple hypnotically toeing the line between icy minimalism (‘Stumbling Still’) and lush, sprawling washes (‘Sole Obsession’). Their formula is a simple one: cathartic vocals aching with unresolved longing; synthesiser soundscapes and echoing of post-punk bass, three equally engaging elements of sound conversing with one another. For Nation of Language, simplicity is a gift; their live sound is in constant oscillation between fullness and emptiness. There are very few bands who find such nuance and intrigue in the gaps in between, but Devaney, Noelle, and MacKay have found such a thing.
In The Mancunion’s review of the band’s recent album, it was concluded that their live tour would be what would fully determine the quality of A Strange Disciple. The record, whilst somewhat predictable, sparkles with intrigue and fluidity – qualities only elevated by their live sound. Nation of Language’s electronica glittered even more potently when blaring across a venue than it did on vinyl. Devaney’s voice, marked by such gut-wrenching yearning that it’d only be fair to label him as the techno Morrissey, resonated far more viscerally than it ever would within the constraints of the recording studio.
When face-to-face with the frontman, his romantic musings on ‘Weak In Your Light’ and start-of-term jitters on ‘September Again’ were all the more charming. McKay’s bass was even more present on the live stage, glueing together the murky depths of ‘Swimming In The Shallow Sea’ with an effervescent presence. A Strange Disciple’s strengths were only highlighted in the band’s performance – the mark of a potentially career-defining record. Its 11 tracks were offered new life in New Century which will only continue to mutate as the band continues on their tour.
Nation of Language also found the time to arc back to early gems of their career – the yearning ‘On Division St’ appeared at the end of their set. With a bass line stolen from ‘Bizarre Love Triangle’, a large portion of the Manchester crowd assumed it was a New Order remix – which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. This finale reminds us – and perhaps the band, too – of their roots: an uncompromising, unwavering adoration for electronica, one that won’t fade anytime soon.
Nation of Language continue to marry the nostalgic with the forward-thinking in their spiritual home of Manchester, and effortlessly cement the quality of their latest record whilst they’re at it. The band are always moving forward, but still remain hellbent on paying their dues to the records that made Devaney throw away punk-rock’s poorly-tuned guitars in favour of the synthesiser. There’s no stopping Nation of Language. At the very least, they’ll always be welcome here in Manchester.
