To love Nation of Language, is to love good music.
Melding retro synth textures with an intoxicating stage presence, kindled by the alluring vocals of frontman Ian Richard Devaney, who’s got quite the charismatic dance moves, Nation of Language gave Los Angeles a most memorable performance at the Fonda Theatre.
The group continues to be one of the best bands out there, both in their live performance and impressive catalog of music. Since we first covered Nation of Language at the Lodge Room in Los Angeles in 2021 (no, it wasn’t Gold-Diggers … if you were at the Fonda, you’ll get this note), the trio have garnered a following eager to exalt at the altar of the band’s rhapsodic new wave anthems.
Four albums later, including their new record, Dance Called Memory, the Brooklyn-based trio continue to conjur insatiable synth-heavy sounds while cultivating their very niche and very dedicated fan base.
Experiencing Nation of Language at the Fonda (night two) in Hollywood felt like a book club gathering — one where you dance, however. The fans that Nation of Language attracts aren’t your typical indie pop crowd. We lean toward post-punk, EBM, and of course, all things synth pop and new wave. Everyone in attendance, whether new or old fans, was there to see Nation of Language. Like a favorite book discussed in a book club, we gathered early to find our spots and talk about the band — how we first heard of them and whether this was our first Nation of Language show or the fifth. It was truly a warm feeling to be part of this community.
Right from the start with “Under The Water,” off their new album, Devaney enveloped us with his charming croon, while the synths splendor of “Sole Obsession” inspired our bodies to dance through his contagious moves. His performance was unforgettable: lush with movement, expressive vocals, and a sense of joy, passion, and sadness all vividly painted through his endless howls and motion. “Inept Apollo,” another new song, glued smiles across our faces, but my heart skipped a beat when he sang “Weak In Your Light” toward the close of their set. Waxing poetic, the heartfelt lyrics of this song always make me melt. It reminds me of the love I have for my husband and our daughter (who, btw, is also a Nation of Language fan — she was weak in their light at Cruel World).
Even the subtle moves and grooves of the synth engine that is Aidan Noell, and bassist Alex MacKay captivated, as their sounds created both a dramatic and dance-floor ready atmosphere.
While Devaney, mesmerized the crowd with both the vocals and motions his brain and body exercised out of him, Noell and MacKay also captured fans in awe. Together, the band felt like a “Where’s Waldo” experience for your eyes and ears. One moment you find yourself focused on Devaney’s multi-faceted performance, while the next enchanted by Noell’s synth magic and hip sways. She’s like a surgeon, slicing and sewing together sonic layers of sounds behind her stacked rig of synths, controllers, drum machines and effects (where Devaney often bounces in to add to the cascade of sounds).
Aidan Noell is a scientist of sounds and I am all about her methods. At the end of Nation of Language’s set, she took center stage and transported us to the dark disco when she performed “Sharevari,” a track her and LCD Soundsystem’s Nancy Whang collaborated on as a nod the original, and the Detroit techno scene.
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Birthday boy, Alex MacKay anchored all those swirling textures with his bass providing a foundation for the synth lines and vocals to soar. Watching him and seeing the live moments of sound come together was compelling. In an I-didn’t-know-that moment during “On Division St”, directly following the lyric “the loving creak,” we heard a subtle and cryptic creak, which, if I wasn’t looking at MacKay in that moment, I might have wrote that sound off as a synth effect. But no, Alex MacKay created that fitting texture by sliding his fingers across his bass. The album version of this song does not include that effect, however, if they ever make a deluxe version I hope it does. These bass layers add all the more depth and introspective moments to Nation of Language’s performance as a whole. And it’s no suprise, considering MacKay also arranges his own potion of sounds with his solo project Cutouts (they did play at Gold-Diggers).
From their charming stage banter, to their tricks and treats, and most importantly, their soul-stirring performance, Nation of Language filled our cups. They proved once again that they’re the kind of band you never tire of, whose albums never contain a song that gets skipped; instead, they are on repeat. Their albums keep us singing in the shower or running for another mile, but it’s their live show that continues to win our hearts, inspiring us to become lifetime members of that Nation of Language book club.
Words: Sandra Burciaga Olinger
Photography: Bryan Olinger
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