Review Summary: As regards nocturnal vertebrates...
Dreary materials scattered as far as the Batcave scene used to reach, belong to those enticed by the early '80s goth range of acoustics. If that's your signal, you might find that this semi-unknown, almost forgotten band can provide respectful dark waves or a poor man's Faith
, plus you could almost feel sad for all the times they got an Oi! boot up their arses after being left outside a club packed with more 'respected' regulars.
Frigid, dispirited motifs and 'bring the reverb on' semi-production, might eventually tag Heaven Is Waiting
clichéd or appropriate according to taste, yet an underlying grasp on the concept of melodic allure (guitar, synth and vocal-wise), although repetitive, is what slightly differentiates the Danse Society from other second tier practitioners of the harmonised decadence and stylised depression. Moreover, Rawlings' approach--longing to be more Smith than Curtis--fits the arrangements, which in turn are more proto-Cure than latter-Joy. So, I'm guessing that a collector of some sort or the Parker & Stone goth-quartet of caricatures would be happy to find this scaly sleeve tucked away somewhere inside a Barnsley pawnshop.
In retrospect, Charles has been proven right once again. Those who had been imitated managed to live, by dispensing a substantial chunk of decadence and depression off their style and harmonies, or for those of you preferring 'em as such, I'll back down and say that they had the skills to conform 'artfully' and expand their habitat--trading some gear o'er La Manche's coldwaves, for the French seemed happy to buy their keyboards secondhand. As for the imitators... they turned out to be flexible chiropterans as well; when they failed to adjust their sonar towards the FM after a bunch of singles plus the next release, natural selection intervened--and The Danse Society got day jobs.