[Rise Records, 2011]
A couple of weeks ago, Dance Gavin Dance scream vocalist Jon Mess described their new release as “a chaotic mess,” a narrative that closely reflected the band’s emotional state. The day of this week’s release, Downtown Battle Mountain II, clean vocalist Johnny Craig finished rehab for multiple addictions. Craig, who returned recently after being forced out of Dance Gavin Dance following the original Downtown Battle Mountain, canceled all his shows save DGD and his other band Emarosa, an outfit with buckets of buzz at the apex of MySpace’s musical exposure.
With his close ties to social media, it should come as no surprise that Craig would front a band with the musical mentality of a seventh grader that knows how to play just about every harmonic riff and lick in the book.
And here we are again. Back with Dance Gavin Dance’s original lineup (minus guitarist Sean O’Sullivan), for a continuation of their first LP.
The assumptions are true: The sounds are quirky, soulful, apocalyptic, scattered, melodic and dissonant all at the same time (to name only a handful of adjectives.) The record is confusing, no getting around that. But DGD’s juxtaposition of funky-punky instrumentation, high-range vocals and aggressive screams is what makes this band one of the most remarkable in today’s screamo scene. The sequel to Downtown Battle Mountain is a mess; in the same way Jackson Pollock’s dripping phase is a mess.
Meandering guitar riffs from brainchild Will Swan bounce from opposite speakers like a game of Pong. This is hardly a negative consequence, though: Swan’s virtuosity is a tight rambling of high frequencies and melodic up-tempo punches that spin your brain upside down at a rate of umpteen times per second.
Though it’s in line with every other DGD album to date, including the self-titled release and Happiness with interim lead singer Kurt Travis, DBMII makes a newly syncopated impression on old fans. Songs like “Blue Dream” and “Privilously Poncheezied” showcase Craig’s popular influences, making a strong case that his voice rivals the King of Pop’s on the second side of Thriller.
The eccentric songwriting brings immense humor to an emo scene desperately in need of some honesty. “Thug City” bluntly reminds us the main reason many musicians get into the business: getting laid. “Pounce Bounce” has Mess musing, “What’s it like to be an atheist? / Are you okay with suicide?” It can be pretty grim, but only if you’re not thinking of all the scenesters he’s fucking with.
Craig’s overt chauvinism is tired though, and eyes will roll with his shouts of “What color are your fucking eyes?” and “Dance Gavin Dance, baby!” that appear as the played-out form of a mixtape distributed on a Brooklyn sidewalk.
The only problem is that we’ve been hearing DGD shout about one-night stands and relationship problems since 2006’s Everything I Say is Royal Ocean.
But unorthodox compositions for the sole purpose of providing rhythm give way to frustration. There has to be enough people that might like to know why Mess is completely indecipherable on about 80 percent of the album, even when his rhythmic howling on “Need Money” is simply addictive. By the time “Swan Soup” — track 10 of 11 — hits your ears, some listeners might be ready to retreat from the battle.
To enjoy DBMII, you have to endure a few listen-throughs. But after noticing the seamless transitions on tracks, the twisting nonsense of DGD starts to hold some clarity. Some fans are probably going to be disappointed and frustrated with the band’s revamped sound and relatively carbon copy lyricism. But what frustrates others will excite people that are ready to see Dance Gavin Dance running in place: ever-changing, yet always the same.
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