Nation Of Language - A Way Forward (LP)

Nation of Language’s second album, A Way Forward, arrived on November 5, 2021, and you can hear a band sharpening the things that made their debut so addictive. The Brooklyn trio of Ian Devaney, Aidan Noell, and Alex MacKay lean into a cool, early electronic palette, the kind that nods to OMD, Kraftwerk, and New Order without feeling like museum curation. They chase clarity and motion. Every synth line has a destination, every bass figure hums like a subway rail at dusk.

The singles tell the story first. Across That Fine Line moves with an anxious sway, Devaney’s vocal pushing against a drum-machine pulse while Noell threads a melody you can hum after one spin. Wounds of Love goes grander, a bittersweet rush where MacKay’s bass carries the track the way Peter Hook’s lines once did, but the emotion is very much their own. This Fractured Mind is the earworm, a gleaming chorus riding insistent sequencers, and The Grey Commute takes on workaday dread with a hook that feels almost too catchy for its subject. A View From The Top Of The World is the slow burn of the set, a panoramic synth shimmer that reveals new details each time.

A lot of the album’s power comes from restraint. The band has said they wanted to explore the feel of early synth music, when limitations forced precise choices, and you can hear that discipline. The drums are mostly clipped and unfussy, often drum machine rather than kit, so the synths breathe and the bass has room to speak. Devaney’s voice sits a hair above the mix, not swallowed by reverb, which adds a human pulse to the circuitry. Nick Millhiser, known from Holy Ghost!, helps keep the focus tight, with arrangements that bloom slowly rather than explod­ing all at once.

What separates A Way Forward from a lot of modern synth-pop is the writing. Hooks are strong, yes, but the verses carry weight too. The Grey Commute sketches the strange calculus of labor and identity without turning didactic. Former Self turns nostalgia inward, not as a hazy filter but as an uneasy mirror. Even when a melody is bright, there is tension waiting underneath, a tug between optimism and the realities of a city that asks for more time than you have. That push and pull gives the record its staying power.

The sound design is catnip for anyone who loves analog textures. Warm monosynth leads, icy pads, rubbery bass, and the kind of arpeggios that feel like they were dialed in with patient hands rather than clicked into a grid. You get the sense that these songs were built in a room, with someone literally riding a filter cutoff while the take rolled. That tactile quality is why A Way Forward vinyl is the way to live with it. The low end sits round and physical on wax, and those high synth sparkles don’t smear. If you collect Nation Of Language albums on vinyl, this one slots next to the debut like a companion piece, more aerodynamic, a touch leaner, and arguably more replayable. It is also a great gateway if you are browsing a Melbourne record store or looking to buy Nation Of Language records online from a shop that knows how to ship globally, whether you are in the States or hunting through vinyl records Australia sites.

Critics heard it too. Publications like Pitchfork and NME praised the band’s sense of melody and feeling for classic synth pop architecture, while Stereogum spotlighted the trio’s rise from indie-buzz to steady draw. The acclaim made sense. These are songs built for rooms of all sizes. In a club, Across That Fine Line hits with a collective sway. On headphones, Wounds of Love turns private and cinematic. They manage both scale and intimacy by never rushing the details.

A Way Forward is not flashy. It is confident. It trusts the listener to meet it halfway, to catch the interplay between Noell’s keys and MacKay’s bass, to hear the slight catch in Devaney’s voice when a lyric twists the knife. Play it front to back and there is a momentum that feels like a long night walk, the city a chorus behind you. For a young band carving out their lane, this record does more than point toward the future. It plants a flag, and it makes a strong case that the best Nation Of Language vinyl you can spin right now is this one.