Wallows: NOTHING HAPPENS - Album Review
Nothing Happens constructs a paradox through every song, each sounding similar yet so different. With the music and lyricism Wallows presents, there is always something happening in Nothing Happens.
One notable characteristic of this album is duality. Whether the song has a repetitive chord progression or a confusing melange of various different sounds, the element of surprise is not lost on listeners; you’re either nodding your head to the catchy beats, or pondering as you try and discern what exactly you’re listening to. The creative blend of 80s music and modern sounds evokes this sense of each song sounding like another, yet still existing on its own. As you can tell, there’s a lot happening.
“Only Friend” is the epitome of addictive. It may be a matter of personal preferences, but the repetitive scale that played throughout the song was what I enjoyed the most. The lyrics are light and easy on the ears; Dylan Minnette’s moody vocals become muddled within the music, but his voice helps to make this a song you can’t stop listening to. This is the kind of song that makes you feel free, warbling that is reminiscent of a spaceship, and you find the lyrics stay with you; “Pick up the pieces / Finding a place in the world to be” is a phrase I can hear being sung, and you would too after the inevitable process of listening to this song repeatedly.
“Treacherous Doctor” has a similar, upbeat and free tone to it, though more controlled and tempered by Braeden Lemasters’ chilling vocals. Yet, the song remains fun, upbeat, with a lingering feeling of anticipation. Right before the final chorus of the song is a mashed, warble of sounds, the instrument of the song being a heavy reverb. The lyrics are observant and self-realizing, making you question the name of the song. Some notable lines include, “I’ll go ahead and give you back your eyes,” and “Lost my words again / It doesn’t matter ‘cause you wouldn’t understand.” What really sticks with you in this track is Cole Preston’s masterful drumming, characterizing the entertaining musical buildups and lead-ins; we have him to thank for the wonderful segue between “Only Friend” and “Treacherous Doctor”.
“Sidelines” begins with heavy synth to start you out, paired with electronic chords reminiscent of xylophone keys; there’s a twinkle to the song, one that reminds you of nighttime. I observed after listening to it again the complex and fun musicality that not only characterizes this song, but also the majority of the album. There is a sense of familiarity with “Sidelines,” and your investment is in the thoughtful and reflective lyrics. For me, I found myself hearing the chorus in the opening verses alongside Cole’s lone drum snares, even when no one was singing. Braeden’s peaceful falsettos were a nice contrast to the moodier melodies he sings to in other tracks; it sounds personal, and on closer listening, you realize that this song reflects on itself. The first verse includes the line “We drove around until you started to cry”, and the second verse includes the line “And I drove all night until I started to cry.” The emotional refrain at the end of the song puts you at peace, but in no way prepares you for the next track; yet, the transitions are seamless.
“Are You Bored Yet?” begins with a throwback sound to 80s music; this song is the most prominent musical homage to 80s sounds, but it doesn’t lose itself in this nostalgic, instrumental structuring. The twinkling sound that made its first appearance in “Sidelines” returns here, only it functions as the main melody, alongside the drumming that thumps and resonates in your chest. Dylan and Clairo’s addictive harmonies demand your attention; you sing with them, and you pay attention to the lyrics they both sing; “What’s wrong?” , “How come?” , “Are you bored yet?” and “Will you tell the truth, so I don’t have to lie?” are all questions, and it helps to make this song a conversation between two people. On both sides of the relationship these questions are asked, and before you know it, you’re invested in the story told by Dylan and Clairo. I couldn’t imagine a better artist to feature on this track, one who complements Dylan’s voice so well; Clairo’s verse is quiet in a way that Dylan’s isn’t, but also a little more pensive in a way that his is not. They offer similar yet different sounds; the duality of Nothing Happens is very prominent in this song, and it's one you can’t help but love.
“Scrawny,” like “Treacherous Doctor,” is a song that rolls off the tongue, with a lot more fun. The lyrics are a lot less critical, and you enjoy the unabashed confidence that evolves throughout the song; the slight difference between the pre-choruses, “I’ve been sleeping with the light on / I tend to freak myself out / Will you come a little closer now / And tell me I’m a” to “I’ve been sleeping with the light off / I wanted to remember / Will you come a little closer now / And see that I’m a” illustrates a changing picture, as if Dylan embodying this persona through his song is one he grows with. After the chorus is a quiet scale that allows you to rest from the enthusiastic drumming and smooth guitar complements, as is the bridge with the single piano note hit repeatedly. It’s impossible to sit still listening to this song.
“Ice Cold Pool” contrasts the previous tracks’ consistent upbeat instrumentals with a minor key; for some reason, the opening music sounds like it should be the theme for a television show, or sounds like an existing television show opening. While the earlier songs were repetitive and catchy, “Ice Cold Pool” has a more structured feeling to its sound, paired with Braeden’s cool and calm vocals; his voice truly suited this track. Overall, the song is not as instrumentally heavy, but it is for the chorus - to not spoil the surprise where it happens, I was not expecting trumpets in this song, which somehow fits seamlessly. Right before the bridge, the song quiets down, and you get lost in the outro where Braeden sings “It’s just a recipe for my love.” “What’s the fun if you know what’s comin,’” encapsulates the mood of this song, because it’s true; knowing what is coming in this song takes the fun out of it.
“Worlds Apart” sounds like a continuation of the mood Braeden previously evoked just before. The way his voice coordinates with the percussion and electronic scales creates a muddled feeling for listeners; there is a grand feeling conveyed through the relaxed vocals and simple instrumentation, especially in the lyrics “Now I stand here unknown / A voice in the hall”, “I’m making a point / But you’ll never know”, the word ‘know’ repeated many times before the confusing and abrupt instrumental outro. You are left with a sense of wonder after Braeden sings the last know, and the gradual buildup of instruments begins to jar you; there is a contrast between the wondrous sounds first heard in the outro, compared to the last few seconds, where chaotic and syncopated drumming begins to overtake that initial peacefulness. Listening to this for the first time was an interesting experience, but you realize this instrumental muddling has a purpose.
“What You Like” picks up from the abrupt ending to “Worlds Apart,” taking you completely by surprise as the beat switches to a constant drumming and Dylan’s falsettos. The song sounds like an alternative take on “Sidelines”; the sense of wonder is not really present, but the music slowing down to highlight the thoughtful vocals remains a lyrical constituent. “Go ahead / Tell me now / What you like,” exists in a musical void of reverb and melodic guitar, one where you are searching for a beat to match the lyrics to. Unlike the drumming that opened the song, there is no easy way to place how these lyrics fit into the song, they just inexplicably do. Before the bridge, the static, feedback-sounding mishmash of instruments from “Worlds Apart” returns and pulsate through the remaining verses of “What You Like”, almost like a heartbeat.
“Remember When” reminds me of the pacing for “Only Friend”, but in the minor key and a lot more frantic. The cooler tones reflecting 80s sounds, paired with consistently mellow vocals, form a mysterious atmosphere in the music. The saturated sound takes a backseat to Cole’s drumming and Dylan’s mellow voice, returning as the prelude to Braeden’s equally moody second verse. The discordance between the percussive beat of the pre-chorus and Braeden’s rushed vocals makes you just as frantic as the music, leading to a different kind of enjoyment. Music is an interesting, subjective medium, and I found that unlike previous tracks, I could enjoy the distant feeling of “Remember When,” unlike my enjoyment with the closeness of “Only Friend” and “Are You Bored Yet?”. The ‘oh’ that endures the chorus is almost hypnotic; “All the places I return to / All the faces that remind you,” an incomplete bridge, is finished by a powerful second chorus that returns to the conversational feel other tracks on this album had. “Do you remember when we felt like the only two alive?” made me draw a connection to “Sidelines.” “Sidelines” was okay with letting go, but “Remember When” is more hesitant to conclude this, leaving you with a sense of longing as the outro brings back the opening melody.
“I’m Full” returns to the previous major tones and strong synth, filled with lyrics calling back to other tracks and their messages, words sung with the same tonal quality. The opening line of “Hit me once / Hit again” sounds just like “Had it once / Never tried” in the second verse, speaking to a sense of loneliness with only one person to call a friend. Atypical of what you would expect of a chorus, “Why I’m full” is quieter compared to the verses, forcing listeners to decide where their focus should be. Before the bridge is a heavy buildup of guitars and percussion mixed with synth, peaking and switching to the stereophonic vocals of “So, who’s it gonna be / You or me / When we’re done?” Dylan sings slightly out of sync with the music, but it works. There are selected lines and verses throughout Nothing Happens that sound like they should be out of place, but somehow still work, especially in the quiet outro inspired by intros like Queen’s “I Want to Break Free”.
“Do Not Wait” transitions with ease from the preceding track, beginning with Dylan’s quiet and pensive vocals. The staticky sounds, paired with vibrant but muted 80s synths, feature prominently in the chorus of “Do not wait / Do not wait / Do not wait / I’ll be there / I’ll be there / I’ll be there,” gradually building up to race ahead of the slower vocals, like a heartbeat racing and pulsing. “All the times that feel like everything / When nothing really happens at all,” reduces the complexity and thoughtful lyrics of previous tracks to their simplest form. The metaphor of these ‘times’ in an ‘important room’ with ‘your pictures up on the wall’ immortalizes the imagery accentuated in other songs in a universal fashion. I found that when listening to this album, then listening to it on repeat, it was difficult for me to remember what exactly I envisioned each time I listened to a track. I would observe something new or experience a different emotion, losing myself in what is really happening; thus, the pictures on the wall can be what we want them to. Maybe the confusion I feel when hearing the instrumentals speed up while Dylan remains consistent in vocal pacing is a subjective journey, or the possible illusion that his voice is also speeding up with the racing beat. ‘Nothing Happens’ is sung as Dylan speaks to the listener in the relaxed bridge, drawing you into a brief story you can’t help but wonder more about. The vocals switch back to be at the foreground, while Dylan talking fades into the background of drum snares and trumpets. Finally, you are left with an outro that reminds you of another song on this album, and you as the listener have officially completed your travel along the path of Nothing Happens. Once I heard the familiar melody in the outro, I couldn’t help but smile, let the music play, and go right back to where I started. Most of my commentary on “Do Not Wait” has more to do with self-reflection and thoughts on the album as a whole, because the song itself feels like an ode to Nothing Happens. The song doesn’t let you wait, and that’s the best part.
Article by Alisha Rao
Photography by Nessa Uy