It takes The Weeknd for Swedish House Mafia to succeed at sounding sinister. Swedish House Mafia are great at shaking you awake, but they aren’t very scary: They recruit A$AP Rocky for “Frankenstein,” an attempt at a foreboding mosh pit anthem, but the song crosses into caricature, with Rocky on autopilot as he chants about fucking up the club.
“19:30” falls into a smudge of bleats and beeps sirens reverberate around a limp beat drop on “Don’t Go Mad,” grating under frazzled layers of distortion. Swedish House Mafia used to make songs that crashed over you like a wave far too often on Paradise Again, they sound like they’re treading water. A faint drone hums under the entire track, an effect that’s ominous at first but eventually becomes draining. “Mafia” is a wordless trudge that sounds more apt to soundtrack a video game than an arena rager midway through, the drums slump and then pause, like the song itself needed to gasp for air. Paradise Again opts for a darker sound, crammed with buzzes and whirs. The dance music scene is more fragmented now, and perhaps as a response, the group has adjusted its approach. When Swedish House Mafia hit their peak, EDM was at the center of pop. The sprawling 17-track album is richer in texture and grander in scope than previous releases, but the group’s forays into menacing, murkier sounds prove less satisfying than the crystalized euphoria that made them crowd pleasers. Last summer, they made another dramatic announcement: The band was back together, signed to Republic and ready to release a new record, Paradise Again. After that triumphant last tour, the group receded, popping up only every few years for one-off sets.
Swedish House Mafia steamroll their way into emotion, the blithest shortcut to bliss. The lyrics are cloying, the sentiment overbearing, the stomping lead-up to the beat drop just short of suffocating. “ Don’t You Worry Child” twisted inane, earnest vocals into a song that sounded boundless.
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