SOFT CELL – DANCETERIA

Mark Almond’s 1999 Open All Night was an amazing piece of work, yet since then – for more than two decades – I’ve all but ignored his musical career which is filled with over 15 albums worth of material since then, amassing almost 30 in total. It wasn’t purposeful. Soft Cell, while continuing to release material, hasn’t always been consistent. While there was almost 40 years in between ‘84s The Last Night in Sodom and 2002’s Cruelty Without Beauty, the duo’s next release wouldn’t see the light of day until 2022.

The duo, Marc Almond and Dave Ball, are back on track with a new album in the appropriately titled Danceteria (Republic of Music), a continuing look at the evolution of Soft Cell. The synthpop outfit opens with “Elusive,” a mostly instrumental number with an added recording, a commentary of sorts of someone reflecting on being remembered, nostalgia kicking in. This leads right into the bounce of the album’s title track that hits with a ferocious melody and stormy bounce to it. Everything here is deliberate though; the beat kicks in at a pace fit for the dancefloor, along with an infectious rhythm and a scintillating melody. Here, Almond at 69 hasn’t missed a step. His sung/spoken delivery fits neatly around Ball’s composition. But it doesn’t end there, Soft Cell seems to have been made for the clubs, creating bangers for everyone to dance to. “The Space Inside” hits differently, but the same. Almond’s words and voice haven’t lost any of its eloquence in delivery as the song continues to bounce throughout the dancefloor, flooded with strobe lights and glittering mirrored balls spinning on the ceiling. The duo continues to create energetic, soul-searing sounds here and don’t need to apologize for anything.

Soft Cell is able to flip the proverbial script as well, with songs that are seemingly self-reflective and flow as easily as a calm river, splashing through a forest with “Time Square.” Almond’s storytelling is masterful, filled with vibrant imagery capturing the essence of youth while the electronic low-end slap behind him shivers across the track. There’s nothing forceful, just like on “The Rainbow Room,” a slower dirge, again reflective of a time in New York when buildings still stood tall, breathtaking, imagining the view from at 65^th floor at Rockefeller Center. Almond sings as if he’s still there and we can all view that picturesque scene in our own minds. His words are filled with intensity and Ball finds the right instrumental sounds, the right syncopation, to set the mood.

While it doesn’t seem as if Soft Cell has been in the public eye, they’ve continued to create energetic songs that are fit for both dancefloors and headphones. Danceteria brings you back to New York’s heyday, when life was dangerous but we all embraced it with love because it was what we all knew. Soft Cell just provides the soundtrack for it.

GODFLESH – DECAY

The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away; blessed be the name… Sometimes a few words might be necessary and seemingly appropriate; maybe even inappropriate, but fanaticism this isn’t. And this doesn’t have anything to do with any sort of organized religion. Instead, this is the annihilation of any sort of abrasive sounds we’ve all come to understand as normalcy, directed as it has been for over 30 years now.

It’s Godflesh I’m referring to here, the band fronted by Justin K. Broderick (Jesu, Techno Animal), along with bassist B.C. Green. While the band was an integral part of ‘90s Industrial music and its name would always come up in conversation, the group stood out, stood high, and explored cacophony, melding it with melody. Today, the group continues to traverse musical landscapes, playing with a variety of textures, melodies, and sounds. The band does this with its new release Decay (Relapse), which is more than just an album but a journey; one that takes listeners through a vast array of levels. On the new album, the band has mastered the art of repetition; the trick is to never become repetitious and allow the music to establish a sinister base, and nothing does it better than the opening “Master And Slave.” It’s rhythm-heavy, and Green’s pronounced notes are what seemingly drive it, while Broderick’s guitars are a typhonic sea of blustering discordant sounds. Instruments crash into one another with moments of shaky calmness, but then explode once again. It’s masterful, and at almost 9 minutes it never loses your attention.

Godflesh doesn’t live in there though; it only rents time & space within it. Sort of. “Living / Ending” trades it in for something more of a verse/chorus/verse formula, but it’s hard, it’s heavy, and unrelenting. It’s as if it’s the year 2029 and metal is crushing flesh and bone; gears are grinding and demolished brick & mortar is stained in blood. It’s angry, with sharp razorblade guitars slicing through the air and rhythm. It’s unrelenting. And again it’s not about repetition but more so about a state of mind; avoiding creating a repetitious space, instead allowing for a more trance-like vision. It’s almost the same with “Feral Colony,” where the band attacks right out of the gate. A guitar crescendos and the rhythm section soon joins its fray. This might be the answer to the previous track, rebelling against those monstrosities of mechanical doom, fighting for survival, clawing their way with what little energy they have left. It’s a fascinating display I haven’t heard in years.

The disillusionment seems almost obvious, if not only in song titles alone, but also in the songs’ delivery and adamant stake within shadowy murkiness. Nothing gives off more of the sense of dread than “Fodder,” filled with disjointed guitars circling around its thick rhythm. Everything seems on the brink of collapse, but never falling off that crumbling edge. But we’re all fodder for the machine and things will come to an eventual, and abrupt, end.

Decay just seems so apropos as the soundtrack for the ills of the world at the moment. It’s expressive and runs rampant, like a contagion you can’t seem to get enough of, because the cure is the real problem and trickery is afoot. Godflesh simply outdoes itself again.

PALM GHOSTS – LOVE FACTIONS

Every time I turn around, there seems to be something else I’ve become so familiar with. Disclaimer: it’s not a bad thing; it’s just one of those moments when and where I welcome it. How often does it happen when you’re around like-minded individuals who share some of the same philosophical ideas, tastes, or even (gasp) values? No, we’re forced into situations with people who scoff at your on views, but it’s a learning experience. I digress…

From the tail end of 2025, it seemed everywhere I turned, oh, there was a new Palm Ghosts single popping up, which there was. The post-punk outfit out of Nashville has been consistent, releasing material that’s always palatable and to some like myself, really fucking enjoyable. The trio has just released its brief new album, Love Factions, and while in the past the group’s music was brooding and murky, through this album, the band has stepped into the light, making things much brighter, filled with a much more colorful palette. Bear with me as I bounce around the album, never sticking to the track, but “Live From The Living Hell,” this one rides the melody of those keyboards accentuated by its surrounding guitars and steady rhythm. The song comes alive and is larger than life as those notes, plucked and pressed, soothe and makes you want to get up and dance! Right, right; in the past I’ve brought up how the band rides a crescent wave of nostalgia with so much UK influence, but it doesn’t matter. To be honest, it never did because while the band may wear its influences on its proverbial sleeve, the band’s sound it’s voices are recognizable as Palm Ghosts itself.

And then there’s “Maximum Capacity,” which is misleading: moving frantically, going down dark alleyways, and when the group hits with the chorus, that’s the moment you realize this is something different. Guitars echo out in the distance as the bassline draws you right in. When the song closes out, those polyphonic vocals can’t be ignored. It’s quick and to the point. But going back to the beginning, “Damn The Romantics” hits with its layered vocals and harmonies, and yes, damn those romantics but keep in those synth-like strings that add such tasty flavoring to the song itself but it seems the keyboards are what drive the song, although guitars are just as delicious and appealing. There’s still a bit of gloom around the band though; it might be outweighed by the group’s need for daylight. You can feel that on “Peripheral,” where Joseph Lekkas’ bass is driving the song and everything else just falls right into place around it all.

With every release, Palm Ghosts just seem so focused on whatever the task is at hand, and the band members don’t stray far from one another when it comes to songwriting. Like-minded individuals who bring the best out of one another, and Love Factions is proof of that.