Merin - Self-Titled
Self-Released
Released August 25th, 2023
“Bulldog aliens—they’re out for blood, and I must save the Supreme Being from the villain, who is portrayed by Gary Oldman.” Winnipeg indie darlings Merin have returned with six new songs about fictions more enticing than reality, self-inflicted imprisonment in dark places, and resistance built against deceitful angels tempting one to give in and give up.
The EP’s opening track, “Fear is a Mind Killer, Nerd!” describes feelings of disappointment and disempowerment, and forces that “tear out every fibre of our being and drag our souls through the soles of our feet.” Plaintive lyrics are delivered over buoyant electric guitar lines, promising an angsty, overdriven, and deeply enjoyable album to come.
Accurately describing themselves as “sad but fun,” Merin are masters of indulgent Millennial despair. The first single from the record, “Heat Death,” opens with the unashamedly hopeless, “Sometimes being alive seems to be a curse, no one asked for this, it’s a crass existence.” The song features a verse that could be a chorus, a chorus so catchy it hurts, and a supernova-like pop-rock guitar solo which all together make it easy to forget how devastating these songs are.
In “Don’t Carry On, My Wayward Son,” lead singer Cole Neustaedter claims, with cheery irony, “I’m careless and I’m free, and totally unique, secure in my body.” Between upbeat guitar solos, the lyrics express the existential dread accompanying contemplation of the endless search for fulfillment. These are relatable sentiments for a generation that grew up on post-punk disillusionment, and the track mercifully ends with the affirming if not entirely satisfying, “I’ve gotta try, or I’m gonna die.”
Depression and anxiety remain themes throughout the album, presented in ways that offer catharsis and even celebration at a time when these conditions seem to underlie so many aspects of day to day life.
The unnamed location alluded to in “The Place That Time Forgot” could be a metaphorical one, but the song evokes such a Weakerthansian ennui that a Winnipeg kid can’t help but hear the windy desolation of home between lines about the cold and dark and going through the motions in a seasonal affective slump. We’re fortunate that among our city’s redeeming qualities is an intangible sort of magic that allows its inhabitants to turn bleakness into beauty, or at the very least a heck of a lot of fun.
Among their influences one can hear Pixies, Pavement, and the beloved garage rock bands of the nineties. “Psychotic Dreamland,”—about the bulldog aliens—unfolds into tremolo-picked guitar lines that soar with Weezer-like exuberance even while nightmarish lyrics acknowledge that everything is garbage and nobody wants to hang out with you.
The EP release show was billed as their last performance for a while—and possibly ever—though their loyal local following hopes this isn’t the case. For now, Merin offer a collection of songs to bask in—whether you’re craving validation in the grips of winter melancholy, singing your feelings like a teen at a 2005 emo show, or enduring the “heat death of your personal universe.”
- Ava Glendinning
