I have been endlessly impressed by how musicians around Atlanta have found ways to stay connected and keep creating despite the necessary distance created by this pandemic. From playlist sharing to streamed performances (shoutout to My Illegal Body and Kimono My House), the local scene has made the best of a difficult situation. Still, I admit it’s been hard for me to fully appreciate the effort being made simply because everything is a reminder of what has disappeared. Whether it’s the sweaty air and sticky floors of the EARL, the bathroom line at 529, or the gauntlet of ordering a drink on a Friday night, there was a missing atmosphere that was stifling me, making it impossible to enjoy what makes living in this city worthwhile.

Nag - Dead Deer

In the midst of this introverted malaise, enter the new album from Nag, a band whose taut live performances have often topped my personal list of best local shows. Dead Deer portrays an evolution of the trio’s tense punk into something richer—but no less fiery—than their previous efforts. From front to back, the LP is a reminder of how much Atlanta music has to give and the critical nature of art in these strange times. From the very first chord, Dead Deer buzzes with untamed energy and the same wild heart that makes even their most misanthropic anthems feel triumphant.

Like much of vocalist and guitarist Brannon Greene’s previous songwriting, the lyrics revolve around the existential dread, the chaos of daily existence, and the ways in which we mindfuck ourselves despite our best intentions. Societal pressure, uncertainty, and nebulous futures occupy Greene’s shouted refrains, as jackhammer beats propel minute-long tracks into brick walls. Despite the brevity of Dead Deer, the songs feel like fully realized ideas rather than hardcore snippets. Meanwhile, the addition of electronic elements, effects, and interludes makes the record an experience unlike any of the band’s previous releases. Though not as skeletal as their early tracks, the array of sounds are unmistakably Nag, recalling everything from early Tyvek and Goner Records to ’80s no wave. While the album’s foundation relies on pounding, mosh-ready punk classics like the “Dead Deer,” “Stale,” and “Day Glow,” the 13-track adventure is fleshed out by a variety of angular experiments, particularly the tense post-punk of “Polarize” and the nightmare dreamscape of “The Traveler.”

With every snare strike, I feel roused from a dream. With every guitar stab, I feel the pandemic paralysis lifting. By the time the closing track hits, I’ve been fully disembodied from my depression. The album is the cure I needed—a simultaneous lifeline of nostalgia and a jolt of acerbic immediacy just when I thought all catharsis had been drained from my daily routine. Of course, it had to be Nag.

More Info
Bandcamp: nag-band.bandcamp.com