The Understated Warmth of "And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out"

It's hard to explain my connection to this album. It's not one that I ever recommend to people; it took me several listens to connect with it myself. It's not one I often play individual songs from. It is slow, tender, reflective, peaceful, and sad. Somehow, despite all of this, I always come out feeling warmer.

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Pitchfork

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And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out thrives in its simplicity. Cultivating an understated and comforting mood. I find myself drawn to this album when I am burnt out of everything else. I don't have to search for any hidden meaning; it's all right there. I find it hard to compliment this album without risking making it sound too mundane and boring. That truly is what makes it so great. It feels caught on a spring night after a thunderstorm has died down, with rain glistening on the streets. A unique form of melancholic comfort.

This album feels remarkably personal without ever saying too much. Ira Kaplan's vocals are defined by whispers, making the whole album feel like a confession. To me, it sounds as though the writer is expressing these thoughts for the first time. "The Crying of Lot G" might be at the height of this reflectiveness. I've always loved songs where the writer poses themself questions. "You have a problem, it comes with our private jokes." Much like the cover, the album's narrative could all be contained within one suburban house. Here, this relationship is failing, but even with the fights, it's impossible to ignore the history with this person. Small moments like these stretched beautifully into emotional songs. It feels impossible not to connect too.

Every time I try to nail down a specific season or moment to this album, I change my mind. It's been my most streamed over the last year and I do mean year. It felt perfect in early spring when I really fell in love with it. The waning cold, which slowly turned into warmth, followed my opinion of the album. I remember in particular "Let's Save Tony Orlando's House" as the standout of the time. There was a two month period where I believed I listened to the album in full almost every night.

As spring broke to early summer, I found myself appreciating the slower tracks such as "Our Way to Fall" and "Tears Are in Your Eyes". Coming home after my first year of college, I felt I had a lot to look back on before I moved on. These songs served as my soundtrack, supported by my parents' large collection of 90s and early 00s CDs. My go-to car CD was And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out. These also allowed me to work through the rest of their discography and share my appreciation for the band with my dad.

In the fall, the album took a back seat for a couple of months, reserved for more particular moments when I needed a space of comfort and familiarity. Outside of my obsession in the spring and summer, this is where I felt that the album cemented itself as an all timer for me.

Ironically, this winter I've also found an affinity for their album Summer Sun and have really found my place with "You can have it all." The most famous song (cover) off the album, which is pathetically romantic, as any instance of giving your whole self to someone else can be. Its playful melody is addictive, and I'll put it on repeat more often than not.

Much like the fog on the cover, this album feels like it floats in and out as you listen. And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out weaves in and out through emotions, themes, and stories, but when it's over, I am always left feeling content.

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