Album Review: It's Never Nothing by Kissing Fractures
Alright, let’s get into It’s Never Nothing by Kissing Fractures—a record that punches you in the gut and leaves you gasping for air. Released back in 2013 under Driftwood Records, this emo-rock gem from the US is raw, unfiltered, and dripping with emotion. If you’re here for polished pop hooks or radio-friendly vibes, bounce now. This album ain’t it. But if you want something real—something that feels like a punch to the soul—you’re in the right place.
First off, let’s talk about “Splinter Song.” Damn, this track hits hard. The opening riff grabs you by the throat and doesn’t let go. It’s messy, chaotic, and kinda sounds like your favorite band had a meltdown mid-recording—but in the best way possible. The vocals are strained, almost breaking under the weight of the lyrics, which makes it feel so damn honest. You can tell these guys aren’t faking it—they’re bleeding all over their instruments. I remember this one because it’s got this relentless energy, like you’re running full speed into a wall but don’t care ‘cause you’ve got nothing left to lose.
Then there’s “Tiger Stripes,” and holy crap, this one sticks with you. It’s slower, more brooding, but every note feels deliberate. The guitar work has this haunting vibe, like shadows creeping up on you when you least expect it. And the chorus? Man, it’s one of those moments where you just wanna scream along even if you’re alone in your car. There’s this tension between vulnerability and anger—it’s like they’re daring you to feel something, anything, while the world tries to crush you into nothing.
The rest of the tracks (“Indigo Garden,” “Sun Ghost,” etc.) keep the momentum going, though they don’t hit as hard as those two standouts. Still, the whole album flows together like a fever dream—angsty, loud, and impossible to ignore.
Here’s the thing: It’s Never Nothing isn’t perfect. Some transitions feel clunky, and yeah, the production could’ve been tighter. But honestly? That’s part of its charm. This isn’t some slick corporate product; it’s art born outta frustration and heartache. Listening to it feels like eavesdropping on someone’s private breakdown—and weirdly, that’s comforting.
So yeah, give this album a spin if you’re ready to dive headfirst into an emotional dumpster fire. Just don’t blame me if you end up crying in your room afterward. Oh, and fun fact: I once heard someone compare Kissing Fractures to a mixtape you’d find at the bottom of a thrift store bin. At first, I thought that was an insult—but now? Feels kinda accurate. And kinda beautiful.
