If David Lynch’s Eraserhead had soundtracked itself with a sonic hybrid of indie rock and hyperpop, it might have sounded a bit like charlieCityy’s “nothing, anymore.” But also — not really. This track feels less like a movie and more like that moment when you stare at the ceiling after a fight, replaying the conversation like a broken VHS tape. Is regret really just a fragmented memory stuck on loop? Or is it a beat… that won’t ever drop?
Charlie Cooper (aka charlieCityy… a wandering sonic shaman in his own right) doesn’t make it easy for you. No, this song refuses to be ornamental. He’s taken the cheeky hyperpop days and left them out by the backdoor — ENTER: a dilapidated indie soundscape strewn with glitchy echoes. You don’t want to fall into its trance, but inevitability pulls you there anyway. Waves of emotional detachment flutter in with stark, low-fi guitars; they linger like anxiety during rush hour traffic, simmering just below the windshield.
Lyrically, it’s both blunt and cryptic at once, kind of like reading an old grocery list that makes you remember a past relationship but also wonder why the hell you ever needed four jars of pickles. Charlie sings (or is he confessing?): “I feel nothing anymore.” It echoes later, like he’s scrolling endlessly through his own emotional void. Regret — “Did I even mean it?” — but not the kind that gets tied up with bow resolutions. More like the kind that wears sweat-sopped hoodies, pacing empty hallways.
The beauty here is in the mess. The unresolved disconnection. The open wounds of introspection. You feel like you’ve stepped into someone’s personal diary, complete with coffee stains and half-erased words that still almost rhyme.
At the end of “nothing, anymore,” you might not feel better, but at least, somehow, deeper. Or like you’ve accidentally crossed into someone else’s dream. Or yours.
Music tends to lie better than words do anyway.
