Neither Do I arrive with a debut that stuns in silence
In a local scene often saturated with sonic maximalism, Auckland’s Neither Do I emerge with something far more potent: restraint. Their debut album, We’re Not Known For Anything, doesn’t scream for your attention, it patiently earns it. Across nine deeply personal tracks, the band deliver an album that feels both weightless and heavy, like a confession held in a quiet room.
The title track sets the tone - soft, spacious, and full of feeling. From there, the record gently evolves. Recollection pulses with steady guitars and subtle strings, while Fresh New Hell throws a curveball, embracing chaos and theatrical flair reminiscent of Diorama-era Silverchair. Closing track Lull strips it all back. It’s raw, vocally distinct, and lingers long after it ends.
Rather than push for attention, We’re Not Known For Anything invites you in and rewards those who stay. Neither Do I don’t chase the spotlight; they build a world and wait for you to find it. And when you do, you won’t want to leave.
