a sea change for a ship of theseus (Dance Gavin Dance's Pantheon)
Dance Gavin Dance's Pantheon dropped today and it is the first time in a long time I've listened to an album back to front on repeat; the last time may have just been when last they dropped an album. And it is very clear that despite all that has changed, they are still the same band. If there ever was a band to make metamorphosis a standard, it would be them.
I've been a fan of this band since my best friend shyly linked me a song of theirs ("Turn off the Lights. I'm Watching Back to the Future pt. II" off 2013's Acceptance Speech), becoming hooked from the first moment that Will Swan's unmistakably signature guitar noodling hit my ears. It was 2017, in the period between Mothership and Artificial Selection, shortly after Tree City Sessions and before the Summertime Sadness EP being dropped. Something about their sound tapped into a part of my brain that had been locked behind a door for a long time—a former me that frequented basement shows for local Western NY hardcore bands—much to my friend's delight.
But the truth is that it was then-vocalist Tilian Pearson's voice that drew me in, his soaring range intertwining with Jon Mess' eccentric screaming. I still dove into the back catalog, listening to the Jonny Craig and Kurt Travis-fronted albums, but what brought me back was how much more stable the band sounded with Pearson and Tim Feerick (bass guitar) being on board for a few years now. The chapter of the band's turbulent history with "clean" vocalists (Craig's history with assault and substance abuse in particular) seemed to be over, priming them for future greatness.
Their work ethic also seemed to surpass many other bands in the space, as weirdly niche as the "Swan-core" space seemed to be. It is very possible looking back now that much like getting a new Assassin's Creed every other year, that that kind of non-stop pace of albums and tours every year or two was not even remotely sustainable. Even when COVID-19 scuttled many bands, Dance Gavin Dance managed to release new music and stream live or pre-recorded concert sets.
The rise of the band across several decently-successful albums and tours seemed continually promising, even if I felt that some of their later albums felt a little flat by comparison to some of their earlier work. On the whole, they were still burying gems in every single LP they turned out. That kind of consistency in quality over that many years felt so much higher than almost any other band I love; they were a quiet workhorse that never faltered for too long. Jackpot Juicer seemed to be like the band attempting to find their footing with mixed results, especially with the formal addition of Eidola front-man (and mountain king) Andrew Wells.
It is an understatement to say that a lot has happened since then. I distinctly remember a conversation between myself and my friend well before everything went down that if Dance Gavin Dance ever had abuse allegations brought up, that we'd lose faith in the scene in general. (This was somewhere around the time that this happened with several other adjacent bands we listened to.) Whisperings about Tilian's own misconduct with several fans turning up on Reddit struck us very deeply, especially so close after the tragic loss of bassist Tim Feerick.
Tilian being released from the band (due to what appeared to be credible allegations and a drinking problem) was a gut punch, but when he was allowed back, it was a slap in the face that felt all too reminiscent to how the band struggled with their former vocalist Jonny Craig. It soured me on the band for a long time, even when he parted ways with them shortly after. It almost put me off listening to "The Ghost of Billy Royalton," a touching tribute to Tim.
Pantheon feels like an album created (hopefully) under healthier pretenses, a band that grew up a little and got help instead of indulging in self-immolating behavior. I've listened to it several times back-to-back as I have written this blog post, and what I hear is a return to that comforting virtuosity. Many songs ("Animal Surgery", "Yikes!") feel like pulling back the curtain on their time in the previous era dealing with Tilian's (or their own) bullshit, but tempering it with grace and understanding (even if resentment would be entirely justified.) There's even a return to more in-jokey references they've carried across albums ("Strawberry's Daughters", The Robot with Human Hair: Rebirth", "The Stickler"), and another sharp left turn into Will Swan's genre-hopping with a cameo from George Clinton himself ("Space Cow Initiation Ritual.")
It feels good to listen to them, even in spite of myself. I can only guess that the forces that kept them together over the years may have also caused the tragedies and missteps that have plagued them, and I hope those who are left are in a healthier place now. This album feels like just as much of an olive branch to fans, as it does forgiving themselves for the past.