“Nerve”, which opens the launching album by Do Nothing, is tuneful, thoughtful and ever-so-slightly wonky indie pop that prods and pokes however never ever truly goes any even more than a tip of threat. Comfort zone indie pop, if you will.
The glammy, careless strut of “Happy Feet” kicks the rate up however tones down the psychological pull of the opener – and for the majority of the track vocalist Chris Bailey is a dead ringer for Hamilton Leithauser. In truth, the band wind up as dead ringers for The Walkmen for the majority of the album – either by style or by mishap, it’s a method that works for them.
“Moving Target” is another tune that gains from Do Nothing’s thought about, thoughtful mode. It’s not a million miles from tunes that even wind up on the radio – for instance, you can picture it being a hit for a George Ezra and even a Coldplay. It’s because ballpark.
There are other highlights here – from the rugged stompalong “Amoeba” to the frenzied post-punk of “The Needle” – and there aren’t any tunes that you would feel comfy removing the album to make it more structured or cohesive. Everything here works, however that’s barely excellent appreciation.
Of course, we’ve been here – or hereabouts – in the past, many times now. We’re still yet to totally experience Honeyglaze or Geese or The Lounge Society or Courting and we’ve already taken pleasure in Omni and Ought and Sports Team and Pottery, and who can forget Public Practice? The world seems filled with great post-punk-adjacent indie bands who attempt their best to rise to an undefinable peak (being it financial or otherwise) however never ever rather make the level of an Interpol or a Fontaines D.C. Or even The Walkmen.
Do Nothing stand practically as good a possibility as any of those people of making it to the Big Time, so here’s hoping that they neither stress out nor disappear prior to they arrive.
