Dancing On The Wall

In equal parts as celebratory, uplifting and outright horny as they are aware and angry.

MUNA's Dancing on the Wall sees the band swap the sun-soaked confessional catharsis of their last record for something altogether more edgy and tightly wound.

A confident, inquisitive return from the powerhouse trio.

Another forceful, fun-forward effort from the charismatic trio, Dancing On The Wall’s got it all—sharp melodies, a point of view, and a playful spirit.

The self-professed “queer joy mini-skirt rollerblade” band embraces a darker palette and angstier themes on its fourth album, though pleasure, community, and sex remain lodestars.

On their fourth album, the Los Angeles trio balance lightness and lust with a creeping sense of dread.

Beneath the album’s propulsive beats is a plea to open yourself up to intimacy.

MUNA’s Dancing on the Wall is a great soundtrack for Pride Month, but knowing the band’s thematic goals, it feels like a missed opportunity.

As likely expected ... they wrap these themes in club-friendly packages with silver tape and ironed ribbons; it's full of sleek, synthy surfaces, alternately pulsing and pounding beats, and confident melodies, including on "Wannabee Her," their utterly transformed take on Bikini Kill's "Rebel Girl."

Political music only works with a strong point of view, which MUNA lack on this record. That said, it has at least a couple niche hits to round out summer playlists and Pride party sets. Even without the depth, MUNA know how to please a crowd — but the impression is fleeting.

Engaging in a more maximalist approach does seem like the natural next step for a group eager to preserve both their “gayotic” brand and meet the perpetually anxious cultural moment. But the trio’s bold new approach doesn’t always translate to better results.

Dancing On The Wall feels like the band found one way in with a solid indie pop song, and then just spiralled around the same pole. Despite its length – 13 tracks – it lacks a journey to go on. While all focusing around the chaos of the modern age, and the club as a symbol for that, it feels as though we never leave.