None Shall Remain walks into the room like a gang of night-shift philosophers who’ve been up too long, seen too much, and decided the only honest thing left is to tell you exactly how rotten the wiring inside the modern psyche has become. They’re a New York outfit in the geographic sense, but spiritually they come from the basement party that never ends, where the beer is warm, the amps are cracked, and everyone is dancing because if they stop they’ll remember what the daylight looks like. Their music kicks the door in wearing steel-toed boots, then asks you why you locked it in the first place. Peter Michell, Matt Bronner, Cesar Marin, and Stas Poletaev arrive from wildly different worlds: heat, cold, chaos, quiet…but when they lock in, all that distance snaps into a single jolt. Their backgrounds collide rather than blend, forging a sound that feels startlingly new yet strangely familiar, like a forgotten broadcast you’re certain you once lived through.
Their latest dispatch, I Don’t Care, is a bare-bones post-punk anthem sharpened into something closer to a dare. It’s the sound of a person living on the edge of existential burnout, wandering the streets of their own skull like a tenant who forgot which room held the light switches. The bassline: gritty, repetitive, stubborn as a cigarette burn on a leather jacket, stalks time itself. The whole song feels like it was built from scavenged parts: a drum pulse that mutters instead of shouts, a guitar tone that grinds like a subway rail at 3 a.m., and faux English vocals that slip between spoken and sung with the cool disaffection of someone who stopped believing in salvation somewhere around the second chorus.
There’s freedom in that refusal to the whole crooked carnival. When the voice at the center declares they don’t care, it’s not apathy; it’s liberation. It’s a middle finger raised to the grind, the debt, the heartbreak, the inbox that fills faster than the soul can empty. It’s a release valve disguised as a mantra. And as the track tightens its grip, that release becomes contagious: suddenly you’re the one shrugging off expectations like a coat that never fit.
Of course, None Shall Remain didn’t spring from the void fully formed. They’ve hauled their sound across clubs, lofts, and dimly lit caverns from Brooklyn to Jersey to Long Island, turning small rooms into pressure chambers. Their catalogue moves through darkwave, goth-rock grit, and post-punk propulsion, but the common thread is the bloodshot honesty beating underneath it all. They’re a band obsessed with the tug-of-war between death and desire, numbness and need, collapse and reinvention…songs carved from the emotional shorthand of people trying not to disappear.
I Don’t Care offers something better than answers: a reason to keep going even when the world feels like a funeral procession run by clowns. It’s lean, mean, and strangely comforting, proof that sometimes the cleanest path back to feeling alive is simply living.
Listen to I Don’t Care below and order the single here.
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