Nicolás Jaar and Dave Harrington return with a meticulous work of unexpected and even unprecedented familiarity—less a portal than a kiosk existing entirely within the boundaries set by their 2013 debut.
For listeners drawn to Nicolás Jaar and Dave Harrington’s intimidating CVs, Darkside seemed like a normie pursuit: a visionary electronic producer and restless guitarist making a psych-rock album that sounds really good if you’re high. While the duo seemed like the types who’d never even need, let alone make, a dorm-room staple like their 2013 debut Psychic, Darkside proved their egghead credentials were compatible with the elevated populism of the Gateway Album. Even in the streaming era, budding tastemakers still might need Kid A or Nevermind as an entry point to IDM or classic indie rock and Psychic served as a grand terminal connecting dozens of far-off, cosmic vistas—whether it was Meddle, Future Days, or even Space Is Only Noise. Jaar and Harrington’s individual visions only grew more vast in the eight years leading up to Darkside’s return with Spiral, a work of unexpected and even unprecedented familiarity—less a portal than a kiosk existing entirely within the boundaries set by Psychic.
Lead singles “Liberty Bell” and “The Limit” cash in on Darkside’s ample goodwill, a sonic brand strong enough to be wholly their own even after only one album. Both tracks align with the feel and extravagant production values of disco and prog-rock, all set to a seductive, zombie groove. And though Jaar’s hollowed-out moan isn’t their strongest instrument, it provides a menacing air that would elude a straight reading of their lyrics (“The me in the sin awoke/You want sin in a rose,” “Submit to the grace/The waters erase”). Even if Darkside no longer sound as effortlessly innovative, there’s always a sinister, muck-turning churn like “I’m the Echo” to ensure they’ll never pass for pop or even chill.
Darkside are less decisive on whether Spiral should be fun or at least retain the impish humor that Jaar brought to Psychic’s “Paper Trails.” “Lawmaker” takes a straightforward narrative on a power-mad, doctor-turned-demagogue and I’m fairly certain (but not entirely positive) it’s not about Dr. Anthony Fauci; more troublesome is the song’s surprisingly unimaginative take on a mode of brooding goth-rock that could serve as bumper music for its prestige TV adaptation. Likewise, “Only Young” hints at Darkside fully embracing dry ice and fog machines, but it’s only a hint. Without fully committing to camp or at least an aspiration for showmanship, its reverb-soaked piano chords and blues scale soloing could pass for a nicely toasted JD & the Straight Shot.
It’s a cruel irony that Spiral’s timidity becomes its distinguishing characteristic. Throughout, Jaar and Harrington, so accustomed to pushing boundaries, are transfixed by minor shifts in the interior decor. “Narrow Road” points toward a more treacherous, unsteady path than Psychic opener “Golden Arrow”: Jaar’s vocals had always been utilized primarily as texture and here, they’re filtered until porous. Darskide forgo their typical 4/4 thump for a rhythm that judders and clanks like a lopsided washing machine. All of these production tweaks can be deemed “interesting” from a purely objective standpoint without serving the song in the slightest. Spiral is rife with truly dazzling sounds—“The Question Is to See It All” makes the most intriguing use of cutlery as percussion since “Spoonman,” “I’m the Echo” imagines a slap-bass made of industrial cable—the kind that silently shame anyone listening through laptop speakers instead of a proper stereo system. Or, it might just feel more like leafing through high-end fabric swatches or going to a cake tasting: samples of luxury operating in isolation, without context that could give it meaning. Most of the time, a beat separates Spiral from being a journey and simply trippy: when “The Question Is to See It All” and the title track ditch the drums, they seem to forget they’re even playing.
The strengths and weaknesses of Spiral are almost exactly the same as those of Psychic, begging an interrogation of that secret sauce that separates their relative quality. The momentum generated by their Daftside one-off, Psychic’s place in a 2013 zeitgeist defined by many other modern classics of nocturnal, extravagant synth-pop. Similar to the luminescent bubble on its cover, Darkside appeared as a whole on Psychic, an endlessly malleable entity with the kind of mystique that only gets enhanced by disappearing for nearly eight years.
Novelty also certainly played a role in Psychic’s success, not in its innovations but in the contagious thrill of discovery that often escapes artists after their debut. “It’s very, very pleasurable to make music with Dave because I feel like we get to play to our teenage selves together,” Jaar said in a recent interview, and for the five minutes of Spiral’s “Inside Is Out There,” Darkside’s dazzling layers of tactile percussion retrains the focus on the communal glee between two production scholars, beaming over a shared computer screen as they surprise even themselves. It’s convincing enough that the who behind their music matters less than the why. And then Jaar’s vocals come in, an interruption or an afterthought at best. It’s both a highlight and a microcosm of the way Spiral forecloses on the endless possibilities stirred by its predecessor for the safest one possible: Another Darkside Album.
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