Nihilism Baby by Ewajin: A Minimal Lo-Fi Gut Punch from 2010
Let’s cut the crap. Ewajin’s Nihilism Baby isn’t your polished, overproduced electronic album that tries too hard to impress. Nope. This is raw, stripped-back minimalism with a lo-fi edge, like someone took all the shiny parts off and left just the guts for you to chew on. Released in 2010 under Misspelled Records (Australia repping hard), this record doesn’t care if you “get it.” It’s here to make noise—or rather, warm, distorted silence—and damn, does it work.
The tracklist hits hard but short, clocking in at only five songs. But don’t let the brevity fool ya; these tracks pack more punch than most full-length albums. Two tracks stand out so much they’ll probably haunt your brain after one listen.
First up, “Seasonal Anxiety Disorder”—what even IS this title? It’s like naming a song after your therapist's notes. The beat creeps in slow, almost hesitant, like it doesn’t wanna wake you but knows you need to hear it. Then BAM—this glitchy, stuttering rhythm kicks in, sounding like a broken machine trying to find its groove. You’re not sure whether to dance or cry, which honestly feels right for something called "anxiety disorder." By the end, you’re left wondering how something so simple can feel so heavy. It sticks with you because it’s not perfect—it’s real.
Then there’s “Let’s Hunt And Kill Billy Ray Cyrus”, which...okay, WTF? Is this satire? Rage therapy? Pure trolling? Either way, it slaps. The track starts with this low hum, almost teasing you before dropping into these jagged, industrial beats that sound like robots plotting revenge. If you’ve ever wanted to scream into the void about bad music decisions (looking at YOU, “Achy Breaky Heart”), this is your anthem. It’s ridiculous, chaotic, and kinda genius—all rolled into three minutes of pure aggression.
The rest of the album keeps the vibe alive—“Happy Song” is anything BUT happy, while “Warm Beats” lives up to its name in the weirdest way possible. Oh, and the title track “Nihilism Baby”? Yeah, it’s exactly what you’d expect: cold, distant, yet weirdly comforting, like hugging a cactus.
So yeah, Nihilism Baby might not be everyone’s cup of tea—or coffee, or whatever drink makes you think deep thoughts—but it’s got grit. It’s messy, moody, and unapologetic as hell. Listening to it feels like finding an old mixtape in the backseat of a junkyard car—you know it’s flawed, but somehow that makes it better.
Final thought: Who knew nihilism could sound so...warm? Maybe we’re all doomed, but hey, at least we’ve got killer beats to go down with.
