Dance Disaster Movement are a scarf-bedecked duo from Long Beach. They wrap themselves in bright white uniforms, evoking a dyadic dance-obsessed schism of The Polyphonic Spree and the anesthetized crispness of fresh bedsheets in a sentimental commercial for stain-lifting detergent. Sonically, they craft danceable punk-out rave-ups circling around a synthesizer, male group shouts, and heavily groove-based drums. And on We Are from Nowhere-- their first full-length after an out-of-print, tour-only seven-inch-- Kevin Disco (no relation to Bis' John Disco) and Matt Howze opt for moving one's ass as a fun way to break a sweat. Regrettably, though, these cats' vision isn't adventurous or expansive enough: they rarely vary their aesthetic scope beyond the obvious stereo-electro start/stop clutter, and as such, the results are more symptomatic of current trend-following than some dynomite block party.
On a more positive note, half the songs are over five minutes (the longest clocks in just under seven), which is a respectable length for aiding and abetting getting one's groove on. But part and parcel to a seemingly endless stream of post-millennial dancepunk groups, Dance Disaster Movement simply meld ESG, mid-career P.I.L., Devo, A Certain Ratio, and, whether they realize it or not, the vastly forgotten Silver Apples into an easily digestible pabulum. And beyond being just another album in a line of similitude, We Are from Nowhere suffers from internal homogeneity: Dance Disaster Movement fail to diversify the dance moves much during the album's eight unsurprising tracks-- most of which unfurl amid equivalent patterning: ebb - two beats - flow - two beats - ebb - fill - flow, etc - give or take a beat.
But perhaps this isn't a lapse of historical or aesthetic vision: DDM could possibly be hemmed-in by the limitations of their retro gear, or their inability to use the shit to its full potential. The Omni keyboard, released by Arp in 1976, is an analog synthesizer with four separate voices (monophonic cello and bass, polyphonic viola and violin) and a bass/synthesizer section. The strings, synth, and bass synth are all simultaneously available. That's a lot of action. And there are two oscillators per voice. Kevin Disco, though, can't seem to get his to do much beyond mid-Victorian rapid-fire oscillating burps.
The song structures themselves are also fairly formulaic: as is often the case with this kind of thing, there are far too many build-ups that lead to a crescendo. The seed is forever spilled. Also, there's usually some sort of discordant twang of a guitar or simulated string running counter to the general flow of the other instruments. It becomes a catchphrase halfway through.
However, one of the stronger compositions, "The Shots", offers some punk-rock chutzpah-- a likable anthem about escaping to the mountains, reminiscent of P.I.L.'s "Rise" without Johnny R's wide-eyed charisma, the song boasts: "Got my head in the clouds/ My middle finger is up." The strongest bit on the album, "I Want Your Sass", moves between tempo shifts, and remains enjoyable despite endless scatterbrain shouts of (yes) "I want your sass": It begins like Julie Ruin, moves into Stereolab territory, cozies up to the Blues Explosion and the angularity of Six Finger Satellite, chills outs a bit, and flies past full of nervous energy and sugary hooks. Keep context in mind, though; it's also the first track, at which point you're still innocent to the fact that, aside from two forgettable videogame-digitally-analog-skipping instrumentals, you're going to have to deal with basically the same song with slight variations for the next half hour.
By the second number, the slower-paced "C'est La Vie", the pattern recognition has already begun to emerge. Midway through, Disco announces: "Don't you even think the beat will make a change!" That's the problem, man, it doesn't! Though select tracks off We Are from Nowhere would nicely compliment a living room dance party, We Are from Nowhere just doesn't offer enough respite from Dance Disaster Movement's synthesized sameness to maintain any sort of boogie-woogie, let alone kickstart an entire movement.
