Day 98: Death of Lovers — The Acrobat
The average side project isn’t going to set the world on fire. For every Gorillaz or The Breeders, there’s more than a few ‘supergroups’ and second acts that don’t make much of a dent. At their best, they channel an artist’s talents in new directions with the help of fresh collaborators. At their worst, they’re little more than sad monuments to hubris. Most of them fall somewhere in between, offering the musicians involved a chance to recharge their creative energy by venturing outside of their comfort zones, or else indulging in genre detours that wouldn’t work in the context of their primary band.
Composed of 3/4 of Philadelphia shoegazecore outfit Nothing, Death of Lovers undoubtedly fits into that final category. Leaning in a poppier direction than Nothing’s Tired of Tomorrow, their album The Acrobat is built from post-punk, goth, and arguably even new wave influences, sounding more like The Cure than anything in the realm of hardcore.
Beyond the near-total absence of anything resembling Domenic Palermo’s wall of haze, the most notable change from his primary project is the addition of CC Loo on keyboards, whose synth work drips with 80’s panache. The sole member of the group who hasn’t appeared on the latest Nothing record, she lends an uptempo robotic pulse that propels a song like “Perfect History” forward, and drenches “Divine Song” in a darkly erotic aura. She doesn’t appear everywhere (some songwriting habits die hard, it would seem), but her presence is enough to show that this is an entirely different affair.
The whole thing is awash in a neon glow, borrowing well-established tropes from the era when people would hang out at the mall (except Roy Moore) and listen to sad, sexy tales of longing on cassette. Kyle Kimball’s drums feel more machine than man, and Nick Basset’s bass is appropriately high in the mix and has the kind of chorusy tone that only a lovesick Gen X-er could love. It’s delightfully brazen in its homage to that dry-sounding era where distortion was mostly verboten. Palermo dials back the reverb a bit, playing Smithian lead parts while the keyboards frequently create a rhythm track. Whereas those sorts of parts might sound comparatively lush when placed against the backdrop his other band creates, here his work ranges from chilly to incisive.
The problem with worshipping at the altar of 80’s shtick is that The Acrobat drags some ideas into the present that should’ve been left in the past. I could’ve done without that sax solo that winds down the album on “The Absolute”, for starters. In other ways, these song are missing that special something that would let the Lovers take the leap to the next level. Specifically, Palermo is missing the charisma and conviction of a Robert Smith, a Simon Le Bon, or a Morrissey.Those are all lofty comparisons that would be hard for anyone to live up to, but it’s not a stretch to say that his vocals often feel more distant than they should.
If you evaluate Death of Lovers’ latest with the tempered expectations that usually accompany a side project, it’s easy to view The Acrobat as a pretty solid love letter to the ghosts of post punk, goth, and new wave past. It’s ultimately a little too derivative to capture the imagination of most listeners (compared to a band like Code Orange alter-ego Adventures, for example), but it’s the sound of talented musicians doing what they love in a way that doesn’t feel needlessly self-indulgent. Given that the next Nothing record is among my most anticipated releases of 2018, though, I’m selfishly hoping that Death of Lovers don’t quit their day jobs anytime soon.
This is Day 98 in my 100 albums in 100 days series, where I review a new album or EP I haven’t heard in full before every day through December 30th (because I don’t know how to count days). Check out yesterday’s post or see the full archives for more.
