The phrase ‘nothing even wrong’ just sounds like a lie, doesn’t it? The thing you might actually find yourself saying out loud to friends when you haven’t left the house for months (COVID aside) and still won’t accept their invitation out on a Saturday night. Maybe something IS wrong and that’s just a lack of self-reflection, a bit of deflection. When the truth is more along the lines of what this song SOUNDS like (and not what it’s saying). 

Sure, you put up a sunny exterior -- that’s the cheery pop sounds and choral hook, but inside the mind is a bunch of disjointed sounds that work together in a way that’s a bit unnerving (even if it’s all you know) and sometimes overwhelming.

Mixing together an angelic voice, her deceptive diatribe, and strange soundscapes, McCall has captured what it’s like to be inside the mind of someone with depression. “Nothing Even Wrong” is a dichotomy of darkness and light. Admitting it, without actually admitting it.



Sure, she says nothing’s wrong, but do we for a second believe her? Or are we here to help? Are we glad to lend an ear and listen to her sing this challenging tune knowing full well that something is definitely wrong?  Maybe she needs to lie to herself just to make it through the day, but the truth is there’s nothing wrong in admitting that you’re having a tough time.

McCall demonstrates the beauty of indie pop with the chaos of post-electronica. “Nothing Even Wrong” sounds like Maggie Rogers by way of Four Tet, which is a combo that gets us quite excited over here at We Are: The Guard. We’ve had this one on repeat and can’t see it stopping anytime soon. At least until things get a little better in the world around us. Can’t wait for McCall’s Self Loathing EP to drop in full on September 18th.  Maybe that’ll help.

We know times are tough right now.  For us, for you, for McCall. If this song has taught us anything, it is to talk about it. Even if you can’t get the words exactly right...

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From deep within the murky depths of the Los Angeles River emerged a creature: 50% raver, 50% comedian, 10% Robotcop. Kurt Kroeber doesn’t own a dog, operates Soundbleed (the world’s only dance party comedy talk show rave), and is down to party with you. Come up some time and say “Hey dude!” But definitely make sure to casually drop the secret Illuminati password.