Canal Irreal – Someone Else’s Dance

Chicago punk outfit’s second album is, personally, one of the most surprising musical gifts of 2024. Their self-titled debut three years ago, featuring the titan Martin Sorrondeguy of Los Crudos and Limp Wrist fame on vocals, was a melodic punk torrent, leaning as much on the post-punk legacy of Portland’s scene as on hardcore. Its successor, Someone Else’s Dance, seals their unique point of view, escalating tensions and quality.

Someone Else’s Dance essentially follows the same musical recipe. The eleven tracks that make up the album dance within the duality between dark punk and post-punk, rhythmically, with guitars that either soothe or shred, with drums that provide an unstoppable pulse. The 31 minutes of the record play non-stop, and you barely notice when you start playing it again. The opener “Withdrawal” could be some lost composition from the legendary alternative rock underground circa 1983, recently unearthed and leaving you speechless, yet sounding as fresh as possible. On the other hand, the follow-up, the ferocious “Stuff That Dodge,” illustrates why Canal Irreal’s debut sounded so refreshing when it was released. And of course, it reminds us why we still need them in the scene.

It is extremely interesting that, somehow, in Someone Else’s Dance all the individual elements of the band’s sound become even more convincing. In a sense, the aforementioned recipe yields a tastier and radiant quality, as if it was a hidden craft perfected. But perfection is not Canal Irreal’s goal; communication is. While paying attention to moments like the fantastic “I Failed” or “Watch Me Burn” with its brilliant balance of bass lines and guitar leads, it is evident that this year, we have found the best (post) punk record that many people will, unfortunately, ignore.

Furthermore, Canal Irreal remain focused on their socio-political concerns that are eloquently targeted and, above all, consciously propagated. The eruption of “Hope For More” and the poetic melancholy of “Tranquility” echo different views of the dead-end routine of the lower classes that inhabit large and central urban areas. In this way, when Canal Irreal dedicates the caustic “Chicago” to their own metropolis, you can easily relate. Punk, when it reveals its most chilling self, has the ability to awaken, through its deeply personal and individualized address, a strong and deeply political sense of community. Everyone’s individual liberating dance can very easily be the dance of another person, who will either succumb to it because they identify, or the other way around, because you found courage and courage from the effort of the person next to you, the stranger, but not the unfamiliar.

So, lose yourself to all of the compositions, especially the energy of “40 Chairs,” and then you may realize that this artistic form really provides a channel, a canal of mutual nourishment and expressiveness. Records like Someone Else’s Dance, which sound so full and sweeping, don’t come around often. And when they do, they don’t persistently knock on your door, nor pretend to be the saviors of deliverance. They grow to be a personal listening experience; they resonate deeper inside you, they unfold their artistic and political virtues steadily but courageously, they accompany you when you want the music to shout so that you hold your breath to get up. Let go.

Find the Greek version of this review at Rocking.gr.