Marie Davidson
Adieux Au Dancefloor [LP; Minimal Wave]

Davidson’s previous solo work seductively straddled after-the-club sensuality with dark alley feelings of remorse and regret. There was always a tease in Davidson’s work, not due to gender, but due to circumstance. It was all about the comedown, where adrenaline and sexuality are still at a peak, but the body is past its breaking point. We are smeared in black mascara and our leggings have runs. There is nothing sexy to see when the lights come on, yet it’s still beautiful. But Adieux Au Dancefloor, despite its title, has little in common with Davidson’s older work. The tone is still intact, but this time the music is meant for the club and the deluge of sweat and pheromones it entails. Yet the lyrical material is more confrontational, less in-the-moment. Davidson cautions against being fake or insincere; she asks probing questions about one’s true motives while throbbing percussion and cresting melodies repeat, until defenses begin to break down. Where she once caught us at our most free after the club had shut down and we were elegantly wasted in our vulnerability, she’s come to the dancefloor—not to say goodbye, but to interrogate. And in the process of losing yourself amidst the strobing lights and throbbing music, Davidson is trying to catch you in the act of fraud. She would not find me on the dancefloor, but I would not hesitate to step into the confessional with Davidson and bare my soul. The club has nothing to offer me but escape, but I am happy with my life however washed up and domesticated it may appear from the outside. But Davidson is in search of those who are using the club as a means to score; as a vehicle to make themselves something they are most definitely not. This whole time, she’s been in search of authenticity. Where she once found it in the afterglow, she’s trying to discover it on the dancefloor. She’s not saying goodbye, she’s making sure those who have no business bringing down the mood say their final goodbye. It is not a place for cheap thrills and power plays, it’s a place of brutal honesty and uninhibited bliss. Stop ruining the trip, or Davidson will find you.

Links: Minimal Wave


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