Deadlight Dance - Chapter & Verse (Ray Records)

It’s been a very gothy week. Not only did I pick up the second autobiography in Wayne Hussey’s eye-opening life story, but I was also sent a copy of Mark Andrews “Paint My Name in Black and Gold: The Rise of the Sisters of Mercy.” So, it is safe to say that I was in the right mindset for the release of the new Deadlight Dance EP, “Chapter & Verse.”

One of the many things I love about this Wiltshire duo is that they make no bones about what they are all about. Everything from the artwork and imagery to their sartorial choices and the names of song titles is worn with pride on their dark sleeves.

Of course, imagery will only get you so far, then it simply comes down to the music. To a certain degree, Deadlight Dance looks back at the genre’s golden age, but that would hardly be enough to keep the momentum going, and for every backward glance, there are more than a few steps into a dark and glorious new future for the genre. And in these songs, although you can hear everything from Joy Division’s stark visions, The Cure’s brooding basslines, All About Eve’s accessibility, Ghost Dance’s dark decadence and even The Fields of the Nephilim’s horrific realms, but this is more about bringing that sound up to date rather than just being content to revisit past glories.

And if “Montag,” the opener, is built of the same intricate blends of razor wire guitar lines which messrs Marx and Gunn and later the aforementioned Hussey, wove together at the heart of The Sisters of Mercy. But whereas their world was always one of obtuse lyrics and obscure references, Deadlight Dance prefers to show their love of literary themes, which weaves its way through each of the five tracks, this first track taking “Fahrenheit 451’s” titular protagonist as its subject.

From there, we wander Orwell’s pre-war London in search of “Rosemary” to shaded and ornate Bauhausian sonic strains, and then into his dystopian Britain of “Airstrip One” via the brooding instrumental of “Charrington,” all dramatic sonics and menacing salvos.

“Judas” reminds us that the gothic formative world was never far from that of the pioneering post-punk place that the Blitz Kids used as their sonic playground on their way to creating the New Romantic sound. Things round off with a look at Mary Shelley’s “Monster,” a song built of resonant guitars and imploring vocals.

Deadlight Dance isn’t trying to reinvent the wheel; they would rather play to the strengths of the genre and do so openly. But they do sit somewhere between the classic sounds of yore and a search for what the genre might be in the current age. That ability to please the existing fans and garner new ones to the cause, acknowledge the past while building the future, and dress in black but introduce just enough sonic color, is precisely what the genre needs—familiarity, yes, but with more than enough new ideas to keep things fresh.