By: Hope Ankney
Appropriately named, Indigo is definitely the color felt as one wades through The Nixon Tapes’ official sophomore effort. The Jacksonville natives paint the emotionally haunting four-track EP with varying charges of blue, keeping the listener hooked with its crestfallen lyrics and ever-changing instrumentals. Carson Hall’s vocals echo the wistfulness of angst-ridden youth as the EP progresses, seeming to tell a story of development in grasping one’s own influence and responsibility.
Indigo’s cohesive musicality as one track swells then wanes into another gives off a sensation of floating on navy waves accompanied only by The Nixon Tapes themselves. With the foundation of 90’s grunge, the EP offers grit, and abrasive power, yet leaks emo glamour as tracks like “Slugs” gently pull us back to shallow waters. The sensitivity of the record accompanied by Hall’s voice laid overtop heavy guitars is reminiscent of Cobain’s unrefined talent and leaves the listener experiencing modern nostalgia throughout.
The pint up angst of one’s youth coexisting with the inevitable coming-of-age of adulthood brings a structure to the Nixon Tapes’ second release. With lyrical content like, “You’re the sun that never sets, I’m the earth that just watches” that Hall belts like a bruise from the second track, “Drip,” it offers a snippet of the narrative of a cynical yet tolerant attitude towards stripping down your personal body and the muted colors of life that distorts your psyche. This attitude is reflected throughout the EP- with themes of adolescent anguish, self-awareness, decline, and finally acceptance of any relationship that has turned blue.
Indigo feels like a dive into a pool of consciousness, floating atop the surface with your ears submerged in the waters. You’re free to swim without constraints as the EP offers room for personal absorption and individual interpretation. By the time you climb out and the last notes of “Dear Love” fade, you’re soaked but cleansed by Indigo’s affect.