For a state that boasts its reputation as a snow hell fairly proudly, there don't seem to be a whole lot of albums about Minnesota winter. Yeah, there's "Sometimes It Snows In April." But that song is way too beautiful and sentimental to reflect the depressing heaviness that comes with gallons of snow. Even for people that enjoy snowfall and winter, it just sucks after a certain point. Minnesotans get used to it, though. They suffer with a wink and joke. I would argue that niiice.'s new EP Never Better hits the dichotomy of these winters right on the head.
The songs may not directly reference the frigid season we pretend to love so much, but the emotions coursing through their veins pay direct respect. Opener "Snowbored" is the thesis statement of the record, if you don't mind me getting all high school English. In an interview with City Pages, frontman/guitarist Roddie Gadeberg summed up the song's sentiments: "The normal depression you go through is that much worse because you can't even go outside." Despite the isolated lyrics, the melody is positively cheerful. The band's pop-punk bonafides shine through on moments like this. Slushy guitars ripple as Gadeberg misanthropically rages against himself. Being mad at the cold is just a cover for being mad at how selfish and unreasonable you're being. It's basically an absolute truth for any Minneapolis resident dealing with depression (especially of the seasonal kind). Your house simultaneously becomes a prison and a sanctuary.
Lead single "Love Handlez" deals with wanting to stay inside and far away from the emotions that dealing with relationships brings in spades. Emotional potency seethes underneath some lackadaisical strums before everything bursts with the cry of "I don't think I wanna leave my house again." Gadeberg absolutely shreds his vocals on this track, putting every ounce he can muster behind conveying what he has to. He subscribes to the splinter-removal school of "just yank it out" and applies his skills to his singing. Bassist Abe Anderson and drummer Sage Livergood are standing right by his side, slamming the same difficult-to-swallow concoction of fear, anger, and disregard. The trio shoots out of a cannon and testifies in the court of second-wave emo. The lyrics walk a tightrope between genuinely wishing self-improvement for the subject and a bitter, sarcastic (yet somewhat justified) kiss-off. Perhaps it's all wishful thinking stemming from being stuck inside during a polar vortex - if I'm totally screwed, at least you're out and about, living life and acting out.
Second single "Minneapolis vs. St. Paul: This Time It's Personal" continues this thread, but it takes it in an even more self-aware direction. "I should just worry about myself / But I'm so caught up with everybody else / But I don't wanna be," sings Gadeberg. He knows he shouldn't be thinking and feeling the things that he is. Anyone that has struggled with consistent mental illness understands the desire for change and the subsequent inability to do so. But, in a song that contains a random yet delightful trumpet solo, he finds a small nugget of clarity. Acknowledging a lack of progress is hard. Making punk jams with your buds is just one of the ways to cope with this. Livergood shifts styles every twenty seconds, flexing his versatility as a punk/emo drummer. Gadeberg and Anderson launch riffs and notes at each other like a twisted game of cornhole.
In the end, not even music, or an abundance of emotional honesty, can save you from yourself. When you've been snowed in for days, all the pain from the past comes bubbling back to the surface. "Blunt Force Marijuana" is a direct exorcism of Gadeberg's abusive childhood. The scars of being lost without someone to guide you for so long throb with each look in the mirror. Each verse ends with a defiantly screamed "you'll see." It's not howled because Gadeberg wanted to - he has no choice. The burning Molotov cocktail of self-hate is hurled at the shadow of trauma lurking in the background of every family photograph.
Every song on Never Better ends with shrieking guitars and hardcore breakdowns just to give the trio a chance to observe the wreckage (and maybe add some more for good measure). Even the relatively low-key "Haterade" dissolves into chaotic noise. "I swear I'm trying / Please don't remind me" goes the song's refrain. All the screaming in the world can't make the snow melt. Each optimistic peek through the curtains - maybe the polar vortex is finally gone - acts as that dreaded reminder when it's all inevitably still there. Progress gets negated by the never-ending weather. Yet we keep going. When asked how we're doing, we crack a frost-encrusted smile and reply: "never better."
Never Better is out now via Brace Cove Records. Listen to it on Bandcamp below.
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