When I first saw the title of this album, together with the band’s name, I was certain I was about to hear a barrage of hardcore; it screamed of the angry, disaffected aesthetic of bands like Crass and Minor Threat. I was to be proven wrong.
What you get here is certainly disaffection, but in a more defeated way. Singer Domenic Palermo has done jail time, where he “got into metaphysics”, and started playing music as a form of escapism from the despair he felt in his life.You probably won’t be able to directly empathise with Palermo’s situation, but Nothing can offer you some of the same escapism. A blanket of fuzz engulfs the guitar and the drummer is liberal with the crash, creating a wall of noise over which soar the ethereal vocals. Though the singing steals the spotlight somewhat, the rest of the group should be applauded on expertly creating the mesmerising backdrop to it.
They grew up listening to My Bloody Valentine, and you feel like this record is nothing more than an attempt to recreate the sound of their heroes. Which is fine by me – the songs are well written and bizarrely catchy, and there’s a real sense of emotion throughout the album; the band really cares about these songs, and after a few listens so will you.