Ahead of his anticipated full-length album, Trauma Factory, experimental soloist Joe Mulherin talks homesteads, halfpipes, and quarter-life crises
Photos by Dan Brown
“Sorry if you can hear the chickens in the background,” Joe Mulherin cordially apologizes. The soft depth of his speaking voice is a far cry from the disquiet melodies and sharp cyphers he performs as nothing,nowhere. It’s an unlikely start to our bicoastal phone call, especially when considering that the 28-year-old vocalist and multi-instrumentalist operates under the imagery of a seven-foot-tall reaper.
While it would be plausible to catch Mulherin wielding a scythe, its use would more likely be keeping the greenery on his recently purchased Vermont property at bay then claiming souls for the white light. “Hey, hey, get over here,” he calls to his feathered friends. “Sorry, they keep trying to drink the pool water.” Other features of Mulherin’s rural homestead include a treehouse, a small archery range, and his childhood dream — a mini skate ramp. His John Deere tractor, which he had spent all morning riding, helps keep his lawn manicured. For Mulherin, these simple pleasures are essential to the health of his mind and body.
“My whole life my sleep schedule has been terrible. I’ve always gone to bed when the sun comes up,” he says, nearly echoing the lyrics from his 2017 single, “Skully” (And I’ve been killing time / going to bed with the sunrise). “When I moved to this new place and got these chickens, they really helped me switch up my sleep schedule because when you have other things depending on you, you can’t really operate on your own schedule anymore.” Despite the hens’ early call times, he describes his entertaining trio as a squad of low maintenance companion animals. [Note: one of the sisters has since tragically passed away at the time of writing]. While most farm animals are thought to be little more than tools for human consumption, Mulherin maintains a vegan household in which the ladies’ eggs are gathered and donated to any visitors who stop by. The household is rounded out by his partner, who he credits for much of his farmhome’s interior decorating, and their black cat, Boo.
When we first met nothing,nowhere. on his 2015 track “Don’t Mind Me,” Mulherin was in a markedly different place. He was intent on becoming a filmmaker, working a tight-laced internship before retreating into his parents’ basement in Massachusetts to pursue music–the peril of this era being detailed in much of his music catalog. “There is no nuance to any of the early nothing,nowhere. stuff, that’s for sure,” Mulherin says, reflecting on the series of singles he released in 2016, as well as his 2017 EP Reaper. It was not only the uncertainty that comes with pursuing an independent musical path that defined the melancholia that bled from this era of nothing,nowhere., but also the torturous throes of generalized anxiety–a battle about which he has always candidly spoken. Mulherin has since achieved musical success, releasing his 2018 full-length album, Ruiner, via Fueled by Ramen and his collaborative EP with Travis Barker,BLOODLUST, the following year. Tackling his mental health struggles, however, has been just intensive of a journey. “I’m always going to have some type of anxiety,” he explains. “I just have to keep up on a schedule for myself and stay on top of my self-care. I think everyone should whether you have a mental illness or not.”
The great personal and artistic shifts that Mulherin has experienced in the past five years have not existed in a vacuum. The 20-something has demonstrated a staying power through the explosion of trendy emo rap, largely by approaching grave subject matter through undilated eyes, revealing the horrors of suicidal ideation and existential dread with full force. Mulherin confesses that his willingness to experiment musically has yielded over 90 unreleased tracks, with each song encapsulating elements of a different alternative subgenre. As some of us find ourselves yearning for 2017 SoundCloud as deeply as we once did for 2008 MySpace, nothing,nowhere.’s consistent output of post-punk anthems, including “Blood” featuring Kenny Hoopla and “Fake Friend,” inspires a rare glimmer of excitement after what was the toughest year for music in recent memory. The culmination of his efforts will be released on February 19 in the form of his sophomore full-length Fueled By album, Trauma Factory. Yet, as Mulherin reflects on his upcoming release and his serene surroundings in the context of the uncertain state of the world, he admits he can’t help but wonder, “What’s the point of it all?”
How have you been doing? How’s quarantine been for you? Or has it not even been that much of a change since you’re already a solitary guy?
Yeah, it hasn’t been too much of a change. I wish I could maybe see my friends and family a little more often. But honestly it hasn’t been too much of a change. Out of all 50 states, Vermont has the lowest amount of cases. I’m just super fucking grateful to be where I’m at right now. I’m just chilling really. I feel safe. I just try not to watch the news and read everything online because it’s pretty bleak out there right now. But that’s only because I have the privilege to. I have the privilege to not pay attention. There are so many people who are forced into terrible circumstances and they can’t just ignore it like I do. If I didn’t have a phone or a computer I would have no idea what’s going on, which is really a privilege now that I think about it.
So, you just moved into a new spot.
I did. I bought a house which is cool. I feel like an adult. A real adult. I just feel old I guess. Instead of buying cool shit I’m buying a lawnmower and a weed whacker. You got to find out how expensive stuff is. I guess everyone has to grow up at some point.
Does it ever get scary when it’s just you and the animals in the wilderness? Do you have a shotgun ready to go in case the bears come out?
I don’t have a gun yet but I go have a bow and arrow because I love doing archery. But I don’t know, I think it’s scary living in a city honestly because there’s more people. Like there’s nobody out here. If someone wanted to come to my house they’d really have to want to come to my house because it’s not close to anything. I like it, it’s cool. I guess it’s like my brand or whatever. Everyone knows I like this type of stuff.
You started going to Vermont when you were a kid, right?
Yeah. I’ve always been a big snowboarder, me and my dad. That’s how we bond. My family’s just really been into winter sports. It’s the whitest thing, I know. So we’d start coming up every weekend when I was in school. I’d look forward to weekends because I knew I was just gonna go “shred,” as they say. I just fell in love with it instantly, like this is cool. I grew up in your typical suburbs which is cool but there’s really no flavor–there’s no culture. It’s kind of just like pavement, strip malls. 95 North and South going to Boston. It was magical to me the first time I came up here. I was like yep. Then I ended up going to college here. I was like yeah I’m not moving.
Getting older can be especially disorienting when it comes to music. Being in your late 20s makes you feel like an old head because everyone is so much younger comparatively, you know?
Yeah, there are straight up fetuses making music now. It’s kind of crazy. Like when I was 21, my music was terrible. Or when I was 18. Like some of these guys are 15. When I was that old my music was terrible so that’s awesome that they’re actually doing well. I just didn’t know what my sound was. I was in bands and trying different projects and stuff. My music sounded like someone who didn’t know what they wanted to make. I think a lot of people don’t realize that it takes a really long time to figure that out. I still don’t know what my sound is.
How do you feel like you came to learn what you wanted to create?
I mean I always had a like a defunct nothing,nowhere. Soundcloud since like 2013. I guess it was originally acoustic stuff and that’s cool or whatever, but my first song was “Don’t Mind Me” in 2015. I guess I found my sound when I finally let go of those preconceived notions and stopped looking at myself from the third-person perspective, like what people will think of my sound. I was listening to a lot of Spooky Black, well he goes by Corbin now, but I was listening to weird stuff. I was just in a weird headspace when I was going to college. I was working an internship that I wasn’t fulfilled at. I was like alright, I’m just going to make music that I like.That’s it.
Had you ever considered playing in a full band format? Or did you always know that you’d take a solo type of route.
No, I always wanted to be in bands like I always just wanted to be in since I was younger. Like, growing up in Massachusetts and seeing all the amazing local bands like Halfheart, Vanna. I always idolized those guys and wanted to be in a band. But I realized slowly over time after my fifth failed band that people didn’t want it as bad as I wanted it. People weren’t dependable. It was like pulling teeth just to practice with everyone. I was like screw this, I’ll just do it myself and it’ll be a lot easier. So, it just kind of ended up that way. Who knows, if I had people who really wanted to do something I could be in a band right now. But I’m kind of thankful I’m not in a band. I guess because rock these days is kind of hurting, which is a bummer, but it is what it is.
Looking at [the post-hardcore supergroup] If I Die First, I wonder if we’ll revert back to that style. Every trend kind of comes and goes. But I don’t know, there might be some type of permanence in solo experimental artists, or however you want to categorize the music that originates on SoundCloud.
I’d say it changes about every three years. There’s always something new. That’s why for kids who start doing music it’s important that they don’t base their entire sound on a fleeting genre. It’s really dangerous. You got to find your own voice and your own sound because genres don’t last. They come and go. But If I Die First is dope. It gives me a warm nostalgic feeling. But yeah, that’s why artists should find their own sound because if you’re like ‘I wanna be an emo trap artist,’ it’s already gone. Now kids are like ‘I wanna be a hyperpop artist’ and then that’ll come and go. You just have to be open.
Yeah, now hyperpop’s supposed to be the new wave and I’m just like I’m too old for whatever this is.
I’m loving it. I definitely have a hyperpop playlist. It’s just so funny how something comes up and then everyone goes crazy for it for a while and then they’re like, “Alright, we’re bored, what’s the next thing?” Music genres are like toys, and little kids get sick of toys. Good music is good music.
So, a major recurring theme within nothing,nowhere. is nostalgia for the past when the future looks bleak. Now that the tides have shifted in your life, does getting older still feel scary, or do you still find yourself yearning for the past?
My wise, meditative mind would say no: just focus on the present moment because that’s all that’s real. The present moment is all that matters. But, you know, I’ll be in bed at night and that feeling that you had of skating uptown after school with your best friends, hitting the local Friendly’s, and then skating at the skate park until your mom picks you up; there’s just a overwhelming amount of endorphins and serotonin and just pure unfiltered joy to being a kid. Not everyone’s childhood is like that. Some people go through hard things. My childhood was very fortunate. I guess as you get older you realize that you’re never going to have that feeling of being a kid again. You get used to things. I was the happiest I ever was when I had no money. The littlest things might make you so happy.
For example, when I was younger I remember I had a neighbor down the street who had a mini ramp to skate. All day I’d ride out the tricks I wanted to try out. I’d ask their parents, “ey, can I skate your mini ramp?” It was just sheer ecstasy. I recently bought my own mini ramp for my yard for my house that I bought. If my 13-year-old self had access to buying a mini ramp I would cry from happiness, but as you get older it’s like Oh, okay, I have money, I’ll buy a mini ramp. I’ll buy a motorcycle. It becomes sort of bland and life is like this unseasoned dish, if that makes sense. I do think as you get older you realize that being a kid is just something that happens. Everyone has to grow up. You need to look at it from the perspective as you get older because you’re living on earth. Every day you wake up you’re like, Alright, we’re on earth, what are we doing? Just that pure rush of adrenaline and joy. It isn’t quite as abundant. You have to work a little bit harder to feel happiness. I’m just trying to take steps to be happy with where I’m at and what I’ve done. I know I’m super proud of myself and I did what I wanted to do since when I was younger and now I don’t work a job that I hate. What more could you ask for?
What is it about skateboarding that you think forms these intense bonds with your friends and provides so much emotional meaning?
It’s not just a sport. It’s not like, “Oh, you play football? I play football, too.” It transcends everything. Skateboarding is directly linked with music. It’s linked with fashion. I just remembered growing up and coming into this world of skateboarding, like, “Hey bro have you seen this new skate video?” When you’re a kid and you’re hopping fences and skating on private property and being places that you’re not supposed to be, skating at night time until the streetlights, there’s just this lifelong bond that you create with your friends that I don’t think anything else compares. I just think that skateboarding is such a visceral and enjoyable and expressive art form that’s also physical. You could see someone in school walking down the hallway, say it’s a new kid, and you would just know if they skated (at least when I was growing up). It’s just a cult almost, a community.
Otherwise, how have you been doing with your mental health?
I’ve suffered severely true, true like panic disorder and people don’t understand what that is. They’ll say, “h, I’m anxious or I have anxiety right now,” but I think there are only a select amount of people who really understand panic attacks and stuff like that. But I mean I’ve been working on myself and every day is doing maintenance on myself. If I don’t check off the boxes, like meditating or talking to a friend, I’m going to start feeling incomplete.
Is there a specific kind of meditation that you do?
It’s a mixture of all the different kinds of meditative techniques that I’ve learned since I started meditating in 2017. Tonglen. Transcendental. For me, it’s really about the breath and staying aware of my breath and trying not to have “monkey mind,” as Buddhists call it. If you start feeling something you say, Pkay, I’m feeling.” If you keep doing this process your mind will eventually tire out so all that’s left is your breath. I think when people start meditation it’s startling how active their brain is. There are thousands of processes going on in your mind and if you’re not monitoring them you have no idea. It’s a mess in there sometimes. I feel like meditation is kind of like a shower for your mind. It’s like mental hygiene. So, if you don’t do your mental hygiene things are going to build up and you’ll have one stinky mind.
Is writing a part of your daily routine as well, or do you wait until you feel inspired?
I’m at the point now where I just wait because especially if I’m working on something like a body of work, it doesn’t feel right if I sit down and try to write something when I’m not motivated to and I don’t have anything I want to say. What’s the point? Just wait until you get some really big inspiration and then do it, which is hard because you have deadlines and stuff and features and collabs. I try to remind myself that it’s okay to not write every day. But no, I don’t really write every day these days. I just wait for it to come. It’s more organic that way and more impactful and there’s more truth to it, really.
You mentioned in the past that you recorded Ruiner with in the span of just a couple of weeks. What made you want to take your time writing Trauma Factory?
Just because I never really have. I mean, I spent a decent amount of time on Reaper actually. I spent maybe over six months on Reaper. But I like being experimental in the process as well. If I make an album in two weeks, it’s going to sound different than an album I’m going to make in a year. I like approaching the process in different ways because otherwise it gets blocked up. It keeps it fresh. It keeps me approaching songs in a different way because when you know that you have a year to finish a song, it sounds much different than one you make in two weeks. Really, I just wanted this album to be made up of my favorite songs after seeing what I could come up with for a year.
How would you describe what you’ve been working on?
Well every single I’ve released has been a different genre, so “Death,” “Nightmare,” “Lights.” They’re all vastly different songs. It would be difficult to say what kind of album this is, which is awesome because I truly don’t think anyone else is doing this. I don’t think anyone else is doing an album where every song is almost a different genre. I’m excited.
I think the good thing is that your fanbase is growing up with you. I think of where I was at when I started listening to Reaper. I was not okay. But now I’m in such a more stable spot so it makes more sense. Just a thought.
Yeah, that’s a good point. Jeez, I couldn’t make three albums like Reaper. That would be a no. First of all, it would be boring and unfulfilling but it would also be like man, just go to therapy. It’s just weird. I think 99.99% of people who support me are really encouraging and just appreciate what I do, but there’s always that .01% who’s like, ‘I just want him to be extremely clinically depressed and blah, blah, blah. Why can’t you make the same songs 400 times for the rest of your career and die?’ Like naw, I’m good. I’ve grown and I’ve changed. This is just what happens.
It makes me think of Bring Me The Horizon. I know they get a lot of similar critique. They do the same kind of thing where they make every new album a new genre and when it comes out nobody can deal with it. Then, the listeners get used to it and then the next album comes out and the cycle just repeats itself.
We’ve established that. People get used to it. You would think that people would start to expect the next album to be different. The best artists of all time point blank period have albums where every one is different. Look at The Beatles’ catalog. Look at David Bowie’s catalog. Look at Prince’s catalog. Those are legends and they’re legends because they challenged themselves and they kept it fresh. They didn’t get comfortable. They weren’t controlled by that .01% that wanted them to make the same songs for their entire career. And if they did, we wouldn’t know who they are. I’m not saying I want to be like Prince or like David Bowie, but that’s what’s so special about art and being a musician. You should be able to look back on your career when you’re older and be like, ‘I know where I was at when I made this song.’
So, with all of that in mind, what themes would you say are the prominent themes on Trauma Factory?
I’m in a much different place now than I was when I made Reaper or Ruiner. I have a house now and 10 acres of land. Now I’m in a place where I’m like this is weird, and life is weird. I guess I did what I said I was going to do. But what is success? What is failure? Why am I doing this? There are some really big questions I’ve been asking. I’m getting older. What’s the point of it all? Maybe this is my quarter-life crisis album.
Watch the video for nothing,nowhere.’s latest single “Fake Friend” below.