Way back in 2015, this NYC duo knew exactly how to make the dance floor feel like the end of the world. Well, Energy Whores are back. Meet Carrie Schoenfeld, aka Carrie, and Attilio Valenti, aka Atty, as they bring you their special kind of “dystopian dance music with teeth” to shake and rattle you. You already know “Bunker Man,” the blistering, brain-rattling anthem about the narcissistic billionaire and the nuclear apocalypse that lingers with a nervous sheen on the skin. And then there’s “Electric Friends,” a sharp-witted observation about the illusion of connectivity that exists in the world of social media. On January 9, Energy Whores returned with their latest album, Arsenal of Democracy”, a record that feels both confrontational and irresistibly kinetic. It’s a collection that invites you to dance while quietly asking what you’re dancing toward. Let’s take this album apart, piece by charged piece.

The album begins with “Hey hey hate”! confronting the world with a splitting synth riff that sounds like an alarm clock in a dystopia. The message presented in this track criticizes the hatred of propaganda. The track further says that the people who perform this act are well aware that they are performing the wrong action, and yet they carry it out. The music presented in this track is frantic and fast-paced, with the use of a bassline that thrusts the listener into a world of anxiety as they believe the lies they have been told,  mirroring the activity it criticizes. This pulsating track greets the album

The title track itself, “Arsenal of democracy”, opens with a menacing swathe of electronic drone that conveys the building power of the coming storm. This particular track can be seen as a call to freethinkers in the world as a whole because the artist thinks they can assist with a situation in their world. The music contains several elements that make the listener both intimidated by the power of the military-industrial complex and invigorated by the pulse of resistance in the track.

“Pretty sparkly things” opens with a deceivingly sweet and sparkly arpeggio sequence that is almost childlike in its playful quality before plummeting into a rather thrilling rhythm. The lyrics rapidly shift gears to explore the emptiness of consumer culture and the “sparkly” tools of illusion that are employed to hold the population in line with fear. The song combines catchy melodies from the synth-pop realm along with its darkness in order to jolt the listener into examining the “sparkle” of his or her own possessions. This illuminating song will make you sit and ponder what you buy.

“Mach9ne” enters with a rapid-fire, mechanical pulse emulating a high-speed heartbeat, while the theme is about the relentless pace of technological advancement and feeling left behind by an uncaring algorithm. This song holds up the mirror to the way our society is at present. It is musically a lesson in tension, filled with its sharp, percussive stabs and cold, robotic vocal delivery that makes you think you are a cog within some great and accelerating engine.

“Bunker man” kicks off with electronically subdued and claustrophobic sounds as if heard behind a thick wall. It is exciting and enjoyable, pure and simple, right from the start. Lyrically, it is a portrait of survivalist isolation and fear of “the other,” as it scoffs at the irony of constructing a bunker while a fire is raging outside. This song is all about rich men’s isolation with dark satire, and it is pure genius! Musically, it is much slower and more ominous than what came before. It is heavy and oppressive, as if it were a burden placed directly on the protagonist to feel confinement.

 The “Two minutes to midnight “opening is driven by a ticking beat, akin to a clock, and begins to harmonize the word “the siren,” establishing an atmosphere of urgency. Though it has the same title as an Iron Maiden track, it is certainly a different, more electronic interpretation of the Doomsday Clock, which tackles the issue of nuclear escalationand the fragility of human survival in a non-sensationalist and non-metaphorical way. The sound has a strongly cinematic quality with a broad synth pad that captures the impending last moment and leaves the listener gasping for air.

This album continues with “Little Pill”, which has this cloudy, washed-out, glacial, and ethereal melody that has this pharmacy-induced coma-like effect, but gets a little energized with the help of this attractive beat. This lyrics stuff is basically about how much this society is over-medicated and seeks this “fix” solution for their fear of existing. This track is actually quite realistic because these days, everyone is prescribed some kind of pill for their troubles, performance-enhancing drugs, as well as those who shouldn’t be taking them. We appreciate the artist for sharing this powerful message. The music is dream-like but has this distortion within it, simulating this trip, but it is slowly going south, leaving this excited vibe for the listener.

Up next is the song “Electric Friends”. This song is a song that I am familiar with. In this song, Energy Whores strip away the excess and waste no time easing you in. The song bursts to life on the strength of its vocals alone, no indulgent synth swells or ceremonial drum rolls in sight. It’s a cold open that demands focus, pulling the listener in by the collar and making it clear from the first breath that this track means business. This song is a dry-witted treatise on the manner in which technology shapes contemporary connection, says vocalist Carrie Schoenfeld. You pull the plug, though, and the meticulous digital connections that are fostered there come crashing down, making it necessary to distinguish what is real versus what is just a glow. This razor-sharp commentary is offset by a pop-friendly production approach that isn’t content to leave the commentary purely tongue-in-cheek. Instead, the commentary swings back on itself, looking through the filter of ‘avatars,’ ‘emoji faces,’ and ‘glow strings’ beneath the presentation of digital connections that Schoenfeld reconfigures into a disturbing commentary on a need rather than a connection. With “Electric Friends,” Energy Whores do what they do best: carve out a chilling soundscape of modern alienation in the age of artificial connection. Ditch the saccharine pop veneer; this track is a slow-burning, hypnotic meditation on digital loneliness. It peels back the bright, curated illusion of online intimacy, showing the stark, echoing emptiness beneath. Sonically, the track is built on a razor’s edge. Forged in Logic X with layers of shimmering synths, moody keyboards, and precision electronic drums, the song’s relentless pulse feels simultaneously intimate and utterly isolating-a perfect sonic mirror to the cold, virtual world it critiques.

“Speedo boys drone” is introduced with what amounts to nothing more than a hum, building from retro synth pop to a rhythmic buzz loop. The song is quite atmospheric in nature, serving as a commentary in itself upon surveillance and the dehumanizing aspect of modern-day warfare. The hypnotic drum-and-bass pattern is deliberately minimalist, pulling the listener through a trance-like experience in order to accentuate the detached eminence inherent in remote control violence.

The album ends with “King orange,” which begins with a loud electronic fanfare of synths straight out of a twisted coronation ceremony that I wanted to live in forever! The lyrics are a scathing attack on populist demagoguery in favor of cults of personality. The track is the most theatrical of the whole record, including operatic bridge moments of loudmouthed swagger in which the listener is left with a resolution of chaotic finality, as in a final laugh at the end of the world.

Musically, _Arsenal of Democracy_ sits at the crossroads of art-pop and electro-art rock that incorporates elements of avant-electro soundscapes and a penchant for the punk aesthetic. Tension emerges where motion accentuates meaning, while others reduce to melody and space, which enables awkward and vulnerable moments to occur without resolution. Being grounded in a DIY New York background, Energy Whores stick with an instinctual approach in their music. I asked for more music of the type that Energy Whores can provide, and boy, have I gotten it in spades through this album. This album is a brilliant collection of work for which the artist should be extremely proud of what’s been accomplished. Now, I know I sound very greedy, but I do need more music of the sort provided by this artist, as the talent shown by them is simply crazy.

Stream the “Arsenal Of Democracy” album on Spotify.