Ten Tonnes reorientates his unabashed indie rock fare on Dancing Alone
"Dancing Alone"
Pitting the personal with the playful, Ten Tonnes’ Ethan Barnett fashions razor-sharp self-reflective songwriting with contagiously cagey guitar licks, straight-up indie pop smarts that energised the London-hailing artist’s debut LP four years ago.
Recently exiting Warner Bros for Absolute, Dancing, Alone sees Barnett revert to an increasingly DIY-geared ethos, a journey from major to independent label that coincides with a broader realignment in his work. Relocation from the capital since releasing his first record accompanies a reset in outlook, an uprooting and reappraisal that carries without sacrificing the infectious sonic appeal that graced his first record. An inward focus grounds this sophomore outing, solitary in its introspective gaze yet upbeat in its outward manoeuvres, none more apparent than on the synth-skewed “Monday Morning”, brazenly riotous garage rock spirit that introduces an album angling between jutting moods and internal sentiment.
“Heart to Break” struts with Strokes-esque streetwise fuzz, continuing to stoke the twelve tracks’ pared down drive, its opposite found in the frenetic yet resigned tone of a Phoenix-channelling title track, which depicts the struggles of maintaining a façade: “Go down to Club 85 on a Saturday night / Lose yourself under the burning disco lights / Try to enjoy it, stuck in the crowd / Walk around the streets until the lights go out”. Barnett swaggers between these bouts of melancholic self-realisation and danceable surface sheen in simultaneous style, countered with guitar-driven volatility that evokes a throwback alternative noughties approach, assisted by Maccabees and Jamie T producer Jag Jago.
The solemn and raucous are breezily bridged, the slow-moving desert twang of “Lone Star” offering a breather from Dancing, Alone’s less restrictive reigns, rubbing shoulders against the Rick Springfield-esque power pop of “The Joke Got Old” and Tom Petty-leaning americana of “Weight of the World”, which treads into pure feel-good territory.
Barnett situates a meditative focus at the forefront without sacrificing a high-octane persona on Dancing, Alone; downtempo and runaway momentum exist in harmony, leaving space for diverging themes to be aired in a free-flowing fashion and in continuity with the first album’s contagious core – unabashed indie rock fare that sees Ten Tonnes evolve and reorientate.
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