On Scene: Long Island Sound On Dublin, ‘Ivory’ and Finding Balance Between Introspection and Club Energy
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For Long Island Sound, place and process are tightly linked. ‘Ivory’, their latest release on Signs Of Space, lands as both a closing statement and a continuation, pulling together a run of singles into something more complete. It’s direct where it needs to be, but still carries the introspective edge that’s become a defining part of their sound. That balance traces back to where they’re from.
“We are Dublin boys, through and through,” they say. “It’s one of the few cities where you have the sea within a 30-minute drive in one direction, and the mountains 30 minutes the other way.” That contrast matters. The pace of the city, the access to space, and the proximity to nature all feed into how they think about music. “Dublin moves at a slower, more relaxed pace than some other capital cities,” they explain, “which probably feeds into the more introspective and ethereal side of our sound.”
Their relationship with the city’s club culture runs just as deep. Long before they were playing sets of their own, they were finding ways onto the dancefloor. “Before we were 18, we used to sneak in the emergency exit of The Pod and hide in the toilets until enough people arrived that we wouldn’t stick out,” they recall. It’s the kind of experience that sticks. Not just for the story, but for what it represents, that early obsession with being inside the music at all costs.
As things opened up, so did their reference points. The Twisted Pepper became a weekly fixture, then District 8 marked a shift. “When it opened in 2014, it felt like a real step-up for clubbing in Dublin.” More recently, Tengu has taken that role. “It’s our go-to spot now, and our favourite place to play, especially the open-to-close sets.” That long-form approach mirrors how they build tracks, letting ideas stretch out rather than forcing quick payoffs.
That mindset sits right at the core of ‘Ivory’. The title track strips things back to fundamentals, focusing on groove and progression over obvious peaks. “It’s a no-frills roller,” they say. “We layered loads of SH101s on top of driving percussion, pushing and pulling to create moments of intensity and relief. No big chords, no big breaks, just floor-focused energy.” It’s a conscious move, one that leans into patience rather than immediate impact.
Outside the studio, Dublin continues to shape their routine. A typical day might start with coffee at Brewlab before heading into a session, or shifting things outdoors entirely. “A cycle in Phoenix Park, a run along the Dodder, or a swim at The Forty Foot if we’re brave enough.” That mix of structure and spontaneity carries into the music, giving it a sense of movement without feeling rushed.
The same applies to how they experience the city socially. There’s a clear affection for the smaller details. “We always recommend J. O’Connell’s,” they say. “It’s the perfect Irish pub, calm atmosphere, great Guinness, and barmen who will lovingly slag you.” It’s not about scale, it’s about feeling. The same thinking runs through their approach to production and performance.
Food spots get the same treatment, practical, specific, and rooted in routine. Bunsen for simplicity done right. Rialto Malaysian for a proper spice bag. Takara, when you’re willing to queue. Gaillot et Gray when pizza’s the call. These aren’t throwaway mentions; they’re part of the rhythm of the city as they experience it.
Zoom out slightly, and you start to see how Dublin itself has shifted. “The city has become more vibrant in recent years,” they note, pointing to pedestrianised areas like Drury Street and Capel Street. “On summer evenings, there’s a party atmosphere that’s hard to beat.” It’s a different kind of energy, one that exists outside the club but still feeds into it.
Even so, there’s a sense that Dublin is often misunderstood from the outside. “People think it rains all the time,” they joke. “It only rains most of the time.” More seriously, they point out how much gets overlooked. “People think it’s just Temple Bar and pubs, but there’s so much nature within a stone’s throw.” That duality, city and escape, noise and space, sits quietly underneath their music.
Community plays its part too, even if it’s not always directly musical. They point to photographer Brian Lincoln as someone capturing something real about Ireland right now. “His work shows the country honestly, with a human feel.” That kind of perspective, grounded, observational, feeds into how they see their own output.
Ask them what Dublin sounds like at 3am and the answer stays local. “Shackwards by Sugaboo.” It’s a nod to the current moment, but also to the idea that scenes are always evolving from within.
And when the night ends, it ends simply. “A bag of chips from a chipper and avoiding an afterparty.” No need to stretch it out. No need to force anything extra.
That same restraint is what makes ‘Ivory’ land the way it does. It doesn’t try to do everything at once. It holds its focus, builds its energy gradually, and trusts that the listener will meet it there. A closing chapter for this run on Signs Of Space, but also a clear marker of where Long Island Sound sit right now, grounded in Dublin, shaped by experience, and still refining the space between introspection and the dancefloor.
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