As the title implies, Dancing With Latency is music for the in-between. Shelf Nunny sketched these tracks in hotel rooms while making a major life change, moving 283 miles from Seattle to Eugene, Oregon. One night in Eugene, he found a church that had been converted to an alcohol-free venue, and found himself dancing at 1 a.m. with like-minded people. He had found his new family, and perhaps his new audience.
Those who have been following our coverage of the artist over the years have come to know some simple facts: he often finds himself in difficult situations, yet emotionally always seems to land upright. We don’t hear the stress and anxiety in the grooves; by the time they have been recorded, they have been excised. The strain may be undetectable to the naked ear, but the contentment we hear has been hard-earned.
“Water Idea” begins with the sound of actual water, a symbol of transformation and rebirth. Light pads and beats enhance the feeling of flow. One might even call it Ibiza in Eugene. An interesting contrast is read in the combination of “Analgesia” and “Just Want to Feel,” as they seem to head in opposite directions; our interpretation is that the artist may have felt a sense of numbness in the in-between phase, and yearned for any feeling, even pain. Still, “Analgesia” is an ebullient piece, mumbles turning to bright vocal samples, chimes sparkling in the sonic sun. “Just Want to Feel” increases the tempo and the energy, even as the title is repeated. In this context, the title track arrives as an answer, a direct response to the dance party.
The hesitant synths and galloping trot of “Life in Hotels” offer a welcome nostalgia. Shelf Nunny’s debut is listed on Bandcamp as a 1992 Bad Panda single, although the label didn’t exist until 2009. And yet, the wish to have lived in an earlier era is understandable. Shelf Nunny’s music would fit beautifully in a playlist of early Morr Music (founded 1999), while the intonations of sim1 bby on two tracks recall the tug of shoegaze. The same holds true for the synths of “If I Only Could.” It’s plausible that the artist has always been dancing with latency, without defining it as such. But is this not true of everyone? Aren’t we all between who we were and who we will become, resting only in times of relative stability before the next disruption occurs?
The lesson in Shelf Nunny’s music seems to be, circle back to joy. The artist has done this time and time again, and once more concludes on a kind note. “Koorsoo” is a Farsi word that means “a faint glimmer of hope” or a “thin, almost unbelievable filament of light.” The album which began with water ends in birdsong. Once again, the artist has found his way home. (Richard Allen)
a closer listen 