It’s extremely difficult to not be charmed by the current lo-fi resurgence.
I mean, what’s not to like about the prospect of waves of kids wrestling their guitars in bedrooms and garages across the land, wailing into four tracks; their cheap Marshall amps Nothings
fizzing and crackling under the impact of minds and voices trying to make sense of the world? It lends a warmth and youthful exuberance to what is, cynically,
music dictated by budget but driven by precocious restless spirit. Billed as a collection of tracks from nineteen-year-old Dylan Baldi’s earlier singles and EPsNothings Nothings
‘Turning On’ is much more than the precursor to next year’s proper full-length debut.
From the barbed, understated beauty of ‘Hey Cool Kid’ to the raw and
reckless ‘My Little Raygun’,
casting a defiant flashback to the late Jay Reatard, it’s as carefree and reverbdrenched as you’d expect.
That it’s this infectious and immediately likeable can only inspire. Anyone got a Fender going cheap?
Perhaps the point being made here, even unknowingly by the band themselves, is that the Grass House’s sound isdifficult to pin down.
It can’t be compartmentalised, nor is it easily definable or instantly familiar by genre association, Nothings
which has led to an often bizarre series of comparisons from journalists that have ranged from Captain Beefheart to Bon Iver to ‘horror rock’.
“Whatever that is,” quips Steven. “It’s nice to be quite hard to pigeonhole because it means we’re in some way
carving it out for ourselves,” he says. “If every song is considered a different style, but at the same time still recognisably ‘us’, then we cannot be accused of sticking to formulas in any way.”
Indeed, resting on their laurels seems an utterly abhorrent concept to Grass House.
“The moment you believe you’ve got to where you thought you’d go to, the whole thing starts to rot,”
says Liam when speaking of his band’s perpetual and irrefragable desire to experiment and move forward.
“I don’t think you can stop creativity progressing the sound or output of the band, and when you try to, you end up working to bland formulas that probably only succeeded
because they were once new and exciting to you. There is nothing worse than reproducing the same trite ideas, Nothings
year-in year-out, in a bid to keep the listener onside. Nothings
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