Nagasaki Swim – Everything Grows | Album Review

Excelsior Recordings

Is there a way to observe the passage of time that isn’t inherently sad? Nagasaki Swim, the Rotterdam-based project of songwriter Jasper Boogaard, sits with this question on their sophomore album Everything Grows. Guided by Boogaard’s ambitious yet steady hand, the new album leads Nagasaki Swim to powerful new heights, cementing their reputation as one of indie rock’s most promising new bands on either side of the Atlantic.

Everything Grows follows Nagasaki Swim’s dreamy 2021 release The Mirror, a record loaded with jams, showing a young band bursting with promise and energy. The band’s latest album features an all-star roster of collaborators; Molly Germer, who has worked with (and dated!) Alex G plays violin. Songs: Ohia veteran Mike Brenner, who has lent his talents to over 100 recordings in the music industry, also makes an appearance.

Nagasaki Swim’s sophomore record is a compact yet potent meditation on time and life transitions, and each song unpacks these themes in new ways. On the folky, country-inflected “American Dipper,” Boogaard sings “everyone wants the quickest way to love.” It is a beautiful and ludicrously infectious song. “Eternal,” the lead single from the album, is dreamy yet dynamic, a song that you reach for on a long drive, a song that makes you want to light out to the provinces.

These songs were followed by the more contemplative and downtempo “Window,” and the delicate interlude “Wait,” which is one of the most interesting pieces of music I have heard on an indie album in several years. It sounds like someone playing piano alone in a field, infused with nostalgia but gently resisting melancholy. Many of the tracks on this record are constructed to be steady and unwavering, providing a feeling of solidity against the album’s themes of uncertainty and transition. In “Wait,” the piano melody is allowed to stand on its own, unmoored from other instruments but not an isolated sonic texture. Despite the apparent loneliness, I take this piece of music more as a refuge of solitude and pleasant memories, an interesting departure from sad yearning typical of other music made about isolation.

The title song off Everything Grows immediately makes its case as one of indie rock’s great songs, balancing both depression and affirmation: “there is a fire in everyone,” Boogaard sings, before saying “leaving the old ways… doesn’t get easy.” With a comment on transience befitting Sufjan Stevens, the refrain becomes “everything goes, everything goes.” Much like “Wait,” the song closes the album with piano and birdsong, placing the listener out in the bewildering wild world.

This album got better and better the more I listened to it, and never lost its poignancy. As Townes Van Zandt said, time is a fast old train, she’s here and she’s gone and she won’t come again. To be human, perhaps, is to be troubled by time’s passage, to fret our hour upon the stage. How should we spend the brief moments we have on Earth? How to ensure that we waste the least amount of time? Should we quit our jobs, leave cities in droves, form anarchist communes in the Montana wilds? Everything Grows doesn’t answer this, exactly, but it suggests that time spent contemplating isn’t wasted.

When Everything Grows touches on melancholy, it refuses to be maudlin, gazing evenly at the great sadnesses and unknowns of being human. The album consistently explores these themes with sincerity and humility, it is tenderly melancholic and bittersweet: cough syrup encased in a hard sweet shell. We are left with the impression that perhaps the best way to watch time go is by fostering growth, moment by moment.


Elizabeth is a neuroscience researcher in Chicago. She writes about many things—art, the internet, apocalyptic thought, genetically modified mice—and makes electronic music in her spare time. She is from Northern Nevada. Find her on Twitter at @OneFeIISwoop.

Nagasaki Swim – The Weight Pt. 2 | Single Review

I don’t know about you guys, but things have been pretty rough lately. Between fascist infringements on bodily autonomy, frightening escalations of rightwing dog whistles, and apocalyptic concerns for the world at large, it’s been hard for me to do much beyond just continuing to exist. It’s been nearly impossible to motivate myself at work, and even harder to motivate myself here on the blog. On top of all this, I caught COVID back in April, so that was a fun little reminder of my mortality. 

Over the past year, I’ve tried hard to recognize when I need to take a break. Last year I set a goal of publishing at least one article here every week (and I did it!), but recently I’ve been reminding myself that it’s okay to walk away from things for a little bit. That means I don’t force myself to publish anything just for the sake of fresh “content” because nobody wants to read that, and I don’t want to write that. I love sharing the music that I love with the world, but taking the time to sit down and articulate why I adore a piece of music has been a surprisingly hard thing for me recently. 

This has been a long preamble, but hey, ‘words on music and life,’ right? That’s what ya signed up for when you clicked on this. I write all this as a way to flush out my thoughts but also to say that “The Weight Pt. 2” by Nagasaki Swim is the first piece of music I’ve heard in months that’s inspired me to break out a fresh Google Doc and actually start writing. That alone should speak volumes about this song.

The track is a prelude to the Neverlandish folk group’s upcoming sophomore effort Everything Grows and acts as a direct sequel to the mid-album cut from last year’s The Mirror. Back when it was released, I described the band’s debut as “acoustic-led bedroom rock that still manages to sound huge.” Based on what’s on display with “The Weight Pt. 2,” the group has only refined that sound further, expertly walking the line between sweeping and intimate.

“The Weight Pt. 2” slowly wades the listener in with a single acoustic guitar which gradually builds outward with bass, drums, and a gorgeous string section. After establishing this solemn sway, lead singer Jasper Boogaard enters with a nasally delivery that evokes the remorseful twang of recent Greet Death singles.

After a verse about wasting days nudging thoughts around, the instrumental pairs down to just the strings before lifting off into a beautiful, meditative passage. Between the funeral scenes depicted and the anguishing morbid thoughts articulated, the feeling of death hangs heavy over the atmosphere of the song. 

The instrumental dies out again about four minutes in for (what feels like) the end, only for the strings to swell back up and carry us out with a soaring outro that affords the listener just enough time to properly absorb the heft of the topic. 

“The Weight Pt. 2” is not a fun or light-hearted listen, but it is cathartic and freeing in its own way. God knows we’ve all felt that weight of death and dread recently, and sometimes it’s comforting to seek refuge in a song that fully acknowledges the presence of those extremes. It’s not a distraction; it’s an affirmation that things are fucked up and hard. If you’ve been feeling the weight lately, Nagasaki Swim is right there with you.