What Happens Next

They’ve fashioned a rich and powerfully diverse record.

It's to Gill's credit that the band have retained their venom, spitting out terse rhythms and thick squirts of electronica. [Apr 2015, p.95]

Though Gang Of Four are the same bracing proposition as they ever were, 2015's literary imagery and less blokey vibe mark a successful leap sideways. [Apr 2015, p.100]

A lucid and accomplished departure. [Mar 2015, p.76]

When left to his own devices, leader Andy Gill tends to get bogged down in political moaning, but the guests keep Next mostly spry. [27 Feb 2015, p.64]

It’s hard to weigh out music so that it balances between intelligent and the danceable as the old Gang of Four did. Gill has made an excellent effort of it here but there’s some reapportioning that needs to be done.

The current group are concentrated, powerful, more subtle than in recent times but can sound a bit tidy and foursquare. [Apr 2015, p.96]

While there's much here Gill can point to with pride, more than a few fans are likely to feel they didn't get what was advertised.

What Happens Next is a distracted listen--an experimental Gill production that should be out under his name only.

At least with Content some dots connected to the band's groundbreaking heyday, and while What Happens Next isn't too far removed from the former, the shift has left familiarity behind. That's not all bad, but the chosen direction isn't anything revelatory.

Far from snug or welcoming, the Gang’s overpoweringly thick-sounding ninth album is as refreshingly abstract as anything they’ve done before.

At times, these preoccupations feel clumsy in their topicality, and it's hard to tell whether GOF's unthinkably long history as a Band That Has Things To Say makes this more or less forgivable.

Gang of Four have always been emotional in their own way, but when the emotions are broadcast so loudly, they drown out the anxiety. They drown out the energy.

Ultimately, what’s most disappointing about What Happens Next is not that it will in any way tarnish Gang of Four’s legacy--if their vanguard reputation could withstand Hard and Mall, it can withstand this. Rather, it’s the unshakeable feeling that, if Gill had released this as some newly branded collaborative project, no one would question why it wasn’t a Gang of Four album.

This record foments no curiosity, just indifference--and for a band built on commanding attention for its politicized music, it’s a bitter pill to swallow.

The general tone is that of the least fun dance group in the world, with Gill still spraying noise like a Strat thrown down a staircase across the works.

An admirable effort, yet this feels like Gang Of Four taking six steps backwards into obscurity. [Mar 2015, p.93]