album review: cloud nothings, attack on memory

Cloud Nothings was originally a one-man pop act, an extracurricular bedroom project started by bored student Dylan Baldi.  It has evolved considerably since then and the changes are apparent in Attack on Memory, Cloud Nothings’ third album.  This is firstly notable in its line-up: in addition to Baldi on vocals the band now boasts permanent bass, guitar and drums.  But what has also evolved is the sound; in contrast to their earlier discography which comprised lighter and more irreverent songs of the pop-punk variety, Cloud Nothings showcase a distinctly grittier and more experimental inclination in Memory.

This is apparent from the opening track; the haunting and restrained ‘No Future/No Past’ begins with a hint of piano, before the strum of the bass kicks in and Baldi joins with a mournful croon.  The early 90s and grunge influence practically drips out of your ears, thanks to the involvement of legendary producer Steve Albini (of Pixies and Nirvana fame).  Hypnotically, the tempo increases, as does the intensity of Baldi’s rasping vocals.

The second track, ‘Wasted Days’, is the longest on the album, clocking in at 8:54 minutes.  Almost devoid of lyrics, it’s practically psychedelic—it feels like the instrumentals are lapping around like waves before Baldi returns, screaming to a crescendo.  Surround headphones absolutely recommended.

The remainder of the album competently finds a happy medium between this grunge influence and Cloud Nothings’ somewhat fluffier precedent.  This is not at the cost of an artistic vision, however: one of the strengths of the album is its easy integration of youthful anxieties with youthful energy, and this is bolstered by their chosen direction.  Rather than a mere tired revival of the 90s, over the course of the album, the band manages to co-opt the mechanics of garage rock to infuse them with urgency.

One of my favourite tracks was ‘Stay Useless’, probably one of the album’s lighter efforts but featuring lyrics of suitable gravity, exemplifying as they do my early-20s motivation…to do nothing. Baldi boppily laments “I need time/to stay useless/I need time/to do nothing”.  This short ditty is followed by ‘Separation’, Memory’s instrumental intermission; it’s worth a listen as some plain good noise that’s kept interesting with some dissonant notes throughout.

It’s in the final three tracks that I think the album’s sound becomes most cohesive.  ‘No Sentiment’ alternates between a catchy refrain “we don’t care/what we lose” and some truly epic guitar and drums work.  ‘Our Plans’, a fairly stock high-tempo rock song, is saved by its rueful lyrics and their ragged delivery: “No one knows our plans for us/We won’t last long”, reaching a great climax.  And of course, there had to be one: ‘Cut You’ is the bitter lament to an ex-girlfriend, a relationship in review and energetically mourned. This bitter memorial to a failed romance is so upbeat you almost overlook the acid of the lyrics.

This album is short, just over half an hour. I’d say it would be less rewarding casually, as initially I found all its elements quite disparate. Upon repeat listens though, all its pieces seem to slide into place. I for one found this album right up my alley: it’s energetic and abrupt in execution with almost self-consciously nihilistic overtones.  Enjoy this deft and modern throwback to grunge when you’re pre-gaming for a night out, or just wanting to wake up extra pumped in the morning.

By Alix Foley

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