Nothing - Tired of Tomorrow

Pitchfork 80

On the surface, the stories that swirl around the Philadelphia band Nothing feel out of sync with the music on their second album, Tired of Tomorrow. The group’s oft-discussed past includes violence, jail time, and a mob of hardcore guys wanting to beat up singer/guitarist Domenic Palermo. Before forming Nothing, Palermo spent two years in jail for stabbing someone at a show. (Notably, the group's 2014 debut was titled Guilty of Everything). Maybe as a result of the incident, he was jumped this past year in Oakland and suffered brain trauma.

Beyond the extracurricular activity, members of Nothing have played in hardcore and punk bands before their current gig—bassist Nick Bassett was in an early incarnation of Deafheaven, then founded Whirr. Nothing’s dark, sarcastic online presence (they’ve beefed with Slowdive, after all), youngish punk fanbase, and current label affiliation are the marks of a more aggressive act. But the music they make is gentle, springtime shoegaze with a '90s alt-pop sensibility. If you weren’t aware of the story around the group, you wouldn’t guess at their gritty past or present.

That is, until you start digging. Life doesn’t amount to much on Tired of Tomorrow; the lyrics are filled with existential fear, boredom, anxiety, decomposition, infection, and disease. Life's seen as a nightmare with humans “made of blood and semen/piss and shit.” Elsewhere, people are empty, “useless,” and “sifting through decay.” On “Vertigo Flowers,” named for the dizziness Palermo suffered after being jumped, he angelically sings: “Watch out for those/who dare to say/that everything will be okay/Watch out for those/who want to be/anything at all.” As you may have guessed by now, “Everyone Is Happy” is not about being happy. (Weirdly, “Eaten by Worms” kind of is.)

There are some love songs, too, and they don’t end well. On the fuzzed-out, hypnotic “ACD (Abcessive Compulsive Disorder)," which brings to mind Hum, Palermo, in a more romantic mode, sings: “Swallow, corrosive confection/Decay, rotting in your wound/I can, wallow in your filth/I live to” before adding “You know me and you know I am not well…/And I will leave you/With a bad taste in your mouth.” People cry, then glide or get pushed away.

But those are just words, and as Palermo would be the first to tell you, words are useless. The guitars, though, are sumptuous, humming, and pure. “Curse of the Sun” sounds like My Bloody Valentine and the Smashing Pumpkins collaborating. Nothing recorded Tired with Will Yip (Title Fight, Braid, Balance and Composure), and he deserves a lot of credit for creating an invitingly deep sound. It’s familiar but new; varied but consistent; full of ambience but sturdy. The guitars are light and pretty but register plenty of muscle. A piano drifts in and away without messing up the flow.

In the gorgeously warped, drifting “Nineteen Ninety Heaven,” Palermo intones, hazily, that “life’s a nightmare.” But while these sounds can often feel like outtakes from Siamese Dream with a more depressed and inward vocalist, you’d be wrong to take the bait and call the record a "Siamese Nightmare"—as dark as the lyrics are, it's not shocking or scary. It's more of a sweet reminder. In fact, Tired of Tomorrow has been my go-to warm-weather record, a collection that sounds happy, and more importantly comforting, even when you know, as you always did, that there's no point in going on, but that we all do anyhow.