Tribal Dance have become distinguished throughout the thriving Dublin music scene for their vibrant performances. The eclectic live band’s influence within Dublin also stretches widely beyond the scope of music – in the last few months they have been involved in an art exhibition at Pallas Projects, which was facilitated by Bad Soup Records, a label founded by the band’s very own Adam Smyth.
Consisting of drummer Leo Clarke, guitarist Stephen Dowling and Smyth on bass and vocals, the trio were initially conceived to play at a friend’s house party. “Even at that stage, having not really progressed, the pure energy was there”, says Clarke, as he sips his afternoon coffee over the general gabble and dissonance of Costa on Dawson St.
In the several years since that fateful house party, music blogs have referred to Tribal Dance’s music as math-rock. The group prefer to think of their sound more generally, with elements of the genre incorporated. “It is a considered mission for someone to ask, ‘What are Tribal Dance like?’ and you just can’t really answer it.” For every artist the group admire unanimously, there’s always one they disagree on. This is what lends itself to the unique constituents of their sound. “All three of us like some of the same music, but all of us like a crazy variety of different music. It’s funny, some of us hate other types of music that we like… but it all finds its way in.”
The band’s latest release, “You Can’t Swim”, saw a packed Grand Social loft for the single launch. The group have described the track as their take on a pop song, produced by Ben Bix of Meltybrains? fame. We talk about other recorded tracks from the band’s back catalogue that are awaiting release, and how some songs may differ from the live versions fans have gotten used to hearing: “We decided at that stage of going back to the studio after a long time, we’re going to make live performances one thing, and studios a different thing.”
True to their word, additional bongo drums were recruited for the finale of the “You Can’t Swim” single launch, courtesy of the trio’s friends. “Tribal Dance could be a big band if it wanted to be,” Clarke remarks. “This is why I love this band. Any three of us will always say this – we’ll never ever say we’re only going to do this genre.” The members encourage each other to incorporate whatever discord currently in their rotation when writing, be it blues or satanic hip hop.
Tribal Dance are undoubtedly a live band first and foremost. Sets often feel more like the continuous flow of a friend-group’s jam session rather than a rehearsed permutation of songs. “We do think about the performances an awful lot. Even if we play gigs two or three times a week, we really try our best to keep each gig unique.” Despite being a rock band, the group commend the DJ approach of allowing songs to flow into each other. The trio has also experimented with techniques to improve crowd interaction while shaking up their live sets, such as allowing audience members to select the next song by picking the title out of a hat.
On the topic of breaking the divide between the performers and the audience, Clarke touches upon the group’s innate fondness for the intimate small gigs they were raised on. “There’s more chaos in those gigs, you know? There’s chaos in the big gigs, but you don’t see everything. I like to see everything. That’s the videographer in me personally though.” The drummer created the band’s first video, as well as editing two of their later productions, including the group’s 2018 single “And Then All That Was Left Was A Physician And A Silhouette”.
The track addresses the ongoing battles of an individual’s languishing mental state. “I wanted the challenge of having a near seven-minute song and the only clips are a guy in a room. That’s the point of that video and the song. That you don’t have to see anything happen, it’s all in your head.” The band encourages the destigmatisation of mental health, and Smyth’s lyrics on the track complement the haunting, deteriorating nature of the instrumental.
Boisterous yet meticulous, there’s method in Tribal Dance’s aural madness. The experimental band have more than justified their position as a staple of Dublin’s thriving music community, and show no signs of slowing down any time soon.
