Denmark is a country often defined by the remarkably high standard of living enjoyed by its citizens.
Universal healthcare, low levels of violent crime, easy access to higher education, and general economic stability are all social realities that contribute to the fact that it is consistently considered to be one of the happiest places on the planet.
Combine that with the lack of religious fundamentalism and an overall atheist-leaning ideology, and the small Scandinavian nation couldn’t be a more unsuspecting breeding ground for the angry anti-establishment ethos usually associated with punk rock.
So it was understandably surprising to see Copenhagen emerge as a DIY hotbed of punk-indebted activity in the past few years, and it was even more surprising to see how quickly the word spread about a scene that at first seemed destined for insularity.
This rise in popularity is a direct correlation to the emergence of Iceage, a group of four Danish teenagers whose 2011 debut ‘New Brigade‘ took the unharnessed energy of early-80’s American hardcore and fused it with their own blend of chilling post-punk rhythms and subtle no-wave dissonance. The record was more of a stepping stone than a statement; it felt as if each member was so bottled up with ideas that together they played like they were ready to write the next release during the recording of this one.
Two years later and that release – affectionately titled ‘You’re Nothing‘ – has finally arrived, and the sound that it delivers mirrors the growth of the band members themselves, out of teenhood and into the unknown. The voice is deeper, the shoulders broader, the facial hair filled out, and yet at the same time not all that much has changed.
Drummer Dan Kjær Nielsen and bassist Jakob Tvilling Pless are still locking in and out of breakneck speeds, guitarist Johan Surrballe Wieth is still mixing power chords with interlocking melodies and sudden shrieks of noise, and frontman Elias Bender Rønnenfelt is still screaming and moaning on each song as if he was hoarsely panting towards the finish line.
The strength of the follow-up, however, lies not in these similarities, but in the ways in which it separates itself from its forerunner. Opener ‘Ecstasy‘ sandwiches their standard circle pit tempo between a rolling, almost danceable backbeat and slow, unraveling death lurch, while the pulverizing stomp that drives ‘Burning Hand‘ hedges more towards the proto-grunge heaviness of Flipper than the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it velocity of a ‘Damaged’-era Black Flag.
Then there is ‘Morals‘, which plays out almost ballad-like with its marching snare rolls and soft piano strikes underscoring Rønnenfelt’s emotive, marble-mouthed croon.
To call ‘You’re Nothing’ mature would not only be a reach, but it would also be missing the point. Despite the added layer of nuance, this is still obviously the work of four angst-ridden and emotionally uncertain young men, ones who regardless of the perceived comfort of their native land are still navigating their indeterminate place in the world the only way they know how; by playing loud, fast, passionate music with every ounce of force that they can manage.
Standard of living be damned.
