Swimming – Old

No Funeral Records

Far be it from me to give props to Spotify in any capacity, but sometimes the algorithm rocks. A couple of weeks back, I was listening to Spinning Around the Sun, Though My Feet Still Touch the Ground, the awesome new full-length from My Own Desert Island, and the radio actually gave me something new in its wake. Once the record was finished, Spotify started playing music that seemed to fit under the broad category of “2025 emo.” This included bands like Customer Service, Good June, Michael Cera Palin, and then… Swimming.

Despite the countless hours I spend online uncovering emo bands, I’d never heard of the Canadian three-piece, but “Nothing” left me immediately enraptured. The song in question kicks off with a mathy riff that bounces forward from your speakers with a youthful energy. It’s energetic, maybe a little trepidatious, but busted out with the confidence you’d hear from a Tricot, Toe, or TTNG. Within a minute, the band launches into the chorus, singing, “Every time I try to speak, someone always cuts me off,” capturing a tried-and-true emo hallmark of lacking confidence and feeling unsure of yourself in social situations. The back half of the song is purely instrumental, a showcase for the band’s flashy guitarwork and killer drum fills. 

The rest of the record is just as sensational. 

On the opening crash course, “You Smell Like Phys Ed,” Swimming paint a picture of love and listlessness while interrogating their friend’s tendency toward nostalgia. Perspectives like this, combined with masterful instrumentals and sharp hooks, make Swimming feel like they’re working a notch above their peers. There’s the ultra-relatable, pit-churning chorus of “Rat” that goes, “I’m feeling like a dumbass / You’re acting like a kid / I probably shouldn’t done that / Sometimes you’ll never win.” By the end of the record, the band is constantly switching things up as they build toward the epic seven-minute closing track. The one-minute “Short” brings a burst of post-hardcore energy to the proceedings before “Glimpse” lulls into a brief respite before the final outpouring. All of this is packed in a sub-30-minute release that satiates the mathy side of my emo tastes and, best of all, came as a complete surprise.