Those of us of a certain age who spent any time on the rave or club scenes during their heyday are familiar with that distinct sensation of coming out the other side of a night of partying, with the sun starting to rise and the DJ lifting the music along with it to something bright and effusive.
Maybe you’re rolling, maybe you’re tripping; maybe you’re riding the inevitable high of a night spent dancing with reckless abandon. But has the sun ever felt like this? You’re sweaty and hot from giving your all on the floor, but this rising sun on your face imbues a different kind of warmth. You feel awake, maybe even hopeful. Just existing is the greatest thing you can imagine.
William J. Locker’s newest album, BRAINWASH, hits those same notes.
Opening track “Flow” is a dance-pop banger, guaranteed to drag you to your feet. Its dense layering is like a dance floor in miniature, with disparate lines weaving in and out and something new to listen to on each repeat.
“Flow” rises and rises with no release into “Free My Mind,” which lands heavier but with no less urgency. “No longer alone on this megaphone / Get outside, feel the love, you’re alive / I’m gonna free my mind,” Locker sings. It’s a manifesto and call to action in one, adamantly positive and delightfully rocking.
He flips listener expectations again with the bluesy “Walkin On” at track three. Locker has a Scissor Sisters-esque ability to genre surf while still keeping the energy up (complete with Jake Shears’ vocal flexibility, sounding good doing it all).
The silky-voiced Nella Thomas guests on track six, “Good Thing Goin’.” The sunny early ‘60s vibe is pure joy, right through the sounds of the surf in the outro.
The title track pulls things back into a more traditional dance vibe. Wordless vocals emphasize the steady pulse, and the simple, repetitive melody is deconstructed by a dozen different kinds of sound.
“I love you more than I can hide,” Locker sings on the ’70s rocker “Young,” a genre smash that seems to ask the musical question, “What if Tom Petty had given glam a try?” Love is persistent through this album, and Locker wants the listener to not just know it, but share it.
Things slow down with “Infinite,” a thoughtful instrumental that exemplifies wistfulness, a last indulgence of memory, perhaps. An echo of happiness.
Then track 12, “Hear My Name,” closes things out on a slightly different note, with an energy that extends from defiance rather than joy. But it’s no less open-eyed and engaging.
BRAINWASH would be one hell of an album to see performed live. If Locker has a fraction of the energy on stage that he pours into these recordings, the audience would be brainwashed indeed, swept into a communal experience of activated love and joy.
This article was originally published in Little Village’s July 2022 issues.
