Over a ridiculously fortuitous weekend covering bands at Seattle’s Bumbershoot Festival, I had the pleasure of interviewing hey, nothing - an indie rock band burgeoning from Duluth, Georgia in 2021 with music that sounds like a cross-pollination between the rain-soaked folk of Noah Kahan and depression-soaked emo of artists like Modern Baseball and The Front Bottoms (the latter which they got their start touring with). While “i haunt ur dreams” catapulted in popularity due to blowing up on platforms like TikTok and Instagram, within their discography lies indie-folk gems and assurance of a strong musical career.
hey, nothing are masters at stitching together anthems that altogether describe the intellectual draught and social disparity imparted by the high school experience through the lens of someone who “sees through it all”, with as much emotional range as a name borrowed from the untouchable Perks of Being a Wallflower as you’d hope. Tyler Mabry (he/him) and Harlow Philips (they/them) were a delight not only to meet (they were notably grounded and approachable - a quality I’m grateful for, especially as this was my first interview I’ve ever conducted), but also to scratch a couple of the inquisitions I’ve been harboring over the last couple of years as a listener of theirs and also an observer of some recent patterns within the indie-folk scene.
Recently, you’ve started touring big festivals like Bonnaroo and Shaky Knees - how does performing these delicate, vulnerable songs live for multiple nights shift their relationship with them, if at all?
Jack: It definitely does. I feel like over time, the more we play them - especially songs like "Maine" - they almost feel more potent, which is kind of strange. When you’re playing at a festival like Bonnaroo or Shaky Knees when it’s nice out and sunny, but we’re working the folksy-sad thing, there’s definitely a weird juxtaposition that changes the atmosphere of the song in a really interesting way. The songs change for us every time we play them live, in a way. Even the tempo can be naturally affected.
TikTok dramatically changed your path with I haunt ur dreams gaining traction online. That seems to be par for the course for a good amount of successful artists within the last few years - how do you reconcile the fact that your music is less pop or algorithm-driven with the current nature of social platforms and media marketing, and do you have any advice for young artists in the folk scene attempting to get this dichotomy right?
Jack: That’s a more involved one. I think one thing that we’ve always drilled into our own mind is to be as real as possible, even if it’s working with something as fun and whimsical as TikTok - you can just post a video of you just being yourself and being vulnerable and I think putting that on the platform - if people are going to connect with it at all - makes it a great place to put it.
So essentially not making music for the algorithm, but learning how to present yourself and your music in a way that is TikTok-friendly?
Jack: Yeah, exactly, 100%. I think it’s important for us when we create to never create for us to never do so for the purpose of online virality, and to cut out the idea of the internet when we’re creating it, and then after it’s done that’s when we decide what to share online - and if it finds an audience and people connect with it, that’s awesome.
Every recently-released song feels a bit more rooted in two-voice songwriting, unlike some earlier solo work - can you walk me through what happens when one starts with an idea and it transforms into a collaborative piece, since you are very much a cohesive, two-voice project?
Jack: When we were in high school, we recorded almost completely separately, but when we went to Maine for the first time we sat down and recorded songs front to back completely together. That was a really positive experience and it changed the way we make music and go into the studio, because these songs are rooted in our shared harmonies and the art we want to make together.
So it’s not like a John and Paul situation, where you’re both fighting for dominance.
Jack: Exactly. Things can start separately - like melodies or guitar parts - but pretty much immediately we’ll come together just to maintain the feeling of having both of us there.
Do you have any plans of adding more people to the band or maybe splitting off for some more solo work, or do you continue to build upon the dynamic that you currently have?
Jack: We love the dynamic we have right now. Tommy and Carmen are our actual band members. Tommy plays bass and Carmen drums - and Tommy sings a little bit too, and has his own solo project, and I think on this next album we’re going to have him singing a bit.
And he’ll be adding his own lyrical input?
Harlow: Yeah, exactly, and then Carmen plays drums and does all the keys - he writes all of the drum parts and does all the keys, too.
Do you have any influences that are pushing you towards a different direction musically, or do you think you want to continue building upon your love for folk music?
Jack: Yeah, we love so many kinds of music. We’re always just striving to do whatever we think is cool in our bones, and whatever we’re connecting with the most.
Harlow: We always joke about scrapping everything and doing a yacht rock album.
Jack: I think when we create, we try not to think about the things we’re influenced by and just create what’s coming most naturally to us.
Yeah, not trying to be MJ Lenderman.
Jack: Yeah, even though I do want to be Lenderman, of course.
Harlow: That and Adrianne Lenker. But that’s, like, an impossible meter to compare yourself to.
As an aside, I was in the top .05% of Big Thief listeners in 2023.
Harlow: Yeah, I think we were right there behind you.
After the interview, I was able to catch their set - and it didn’t disappoint. Their down-to-earth nature shone through in the relaxed flow of the set and willingness to poke fun at themselves. The lack of stuffiness or overt structure for their show was refreshing, especially in a scene where people of their age (both just breached the big twenty) might not yet know how to frame their success. If you want to feel like you’re having a chat with your high school buddy in his basement, turn to hey, nothing - their wry self-awareness is sure to be a refreshing reprieve from the repeated offense of over emotionally oversaturated performance commonly found in music centering around high-school and young-20s storytelling-oriented folk. Check out hey, nothing’s freshly-dropped single "Black Bear" now. They’re more than just a soundbite published at the right place and time on the internet.