In many ways, New York City was the making of Soft Cell. 1981 debut Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret may have been seeded in late-night Soho’s garish neon, but recording in the Big Apple brought an injection of trashy street drama, swapping peep shows and bedsit land for the secret initiations of Manhattan club culture. Post-sessions, Marc Almond and Dave Ball would party at Danceteria, the nightspot frequented by punters of all cravings and persuasions, at a time when anything went and ecstasy was fast becoming the in-crowd’s drug of choice.
They would swiftly return to New York for remix effort Non Stop Ecstatic Dancing, made under the influence of MDMA, repeating the journey for The Art Of Falling Apart and most of 1984’s This Last Night In Sodom, issued just after the duo’s initial split. It wasn’t just the nightlife that kept drawing them back. The city had birthed much of their favourite music too – from ’60s soul to Suicide, VU to ’70s disco and CBGB’s punk. All of which inform Danceteria, a tribute to those who inspired Soft Cell during their early ’80s stopovers, particularly “the brilliant flaming creatures” of the titular club.
There is, of course, more to this than blanket nostalgia. Ball’s sudden death last October, aged just 66, means this is Soft Cell’s final goodbye. The multi-instrumentalist finished mixing the album two days before he passed away. Danceteria thus serves as both celebration and accidental requiem, a collection of ’80s-styled dance tunes forged from analogue synths and old-school electronica.
Its approach can be roughly divined from its immediate predecessor. 2022’s *Happiness Not Included, the first Soft Cell album in 20 years, was a re-evaluation of sorts, reviving the minimalist aesthetic of Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret. Almond and Ball looked back on their younger selves and how they’d once imagined the future to play out, at their most reflective on tracks like “Polaroid”, where the duo recall meeting Andy Warhol on Union Square in 1982.
The memory triggered Almond to write lyrics to a full song cycle rooted in the same place and time. Danceteria’s title track is emblematic. Set to an exuberant clubby groove, Almond unpacks a hedonistic hymn teeming with references – Warhol, DJ Anita Sarko, performance artist John Sex, Danceteria co-founder and gay rights activist Jim Fouratt – against a backdrop of confetti, skyscrapers and flashing colour. Out on the dancefloor, meanwhile, “Madonna was singing to a boom box beat”.
The party vibes continue on “In Heaven (When I Dance With You)”, a nod to the redemptive properties of music itself that feels a little too jolly to really convince. But Almond and Ball return to winning ways on post-disco thumper “Wave To America”, powered by an unstoppable chorus: “From the Rainbow Room/To the Tower of Light/From Apollo moon/To the satellites…” It’s a jubilant depiction of a nation as multi-sensory palace, complete with popping fireworks and a fleeting nod to West Side Story.
Such playfulness extends beyond the obvious floor-fillers. Over a rubbery dark synth, “Times Square” details an encounter at a B-movie cinema in the middle of the afternoon. “I swallowed a pill and you kissed me/You said we have nothing to hide,” sings Almond, as he and his companion run out into a rainstorm and imagine themselves stars in their own production. High up in “The Rainbow Room” it’s January ’82 and he’s chugging margaritas, gazing out at the snow. It’s a moony ballad, Ball easing the tempo as old ally Gary Barnacle wails soft lullaby sax and Almond gets lost in his own yearning: “We could see tomorrow/It was falling at our feet”.
This being Soft Cell, though, dissolution is never too far away. The Pet Shop Boys-like “The Space Inside” surveys the leather bars, junkie hangouts and transgender sex workers of the Meatpacking District, “a tapestry of souls” living a fragile existence in the shadows. Even Ball’s jinking Kraftwerk synth can’t stave off the loneliness at the heart of “Losing Yourself”, a dimly lit parade of strangers seeking a form of salvation in one another’s embrace.
But Danceteria can only end one way. “Out Come The Freaks” is a banging disco-funk cover of the Was (Not Was) anthem that DJ Mark Kamins would spin at Danceteria, with guest vocals from Almond’s good friend Nona Hendryx, another club regular. It’s Soft Cell turning full circle, partying where it all effectively began, bearing the battle scars of all the good times. A fitting send-off on so many levels.