Nathan Jenkins speaks about songwriting with the arcane detachment of a mage, often describing the process in passive voice. Lyrics “materialize in the shape of melodies”; he’s “not very present” for the process in general. Jenkins has expressed admiration for the way Arthur Russell creates distance between himself and a song, “[wearing] them so lightly,” then folding them up before they’ve run ragged. After finishing 2024’s Affection, the London producer’s most pop-centric record under the Bullion moniker, Jenkins set out to make a follow-up record with a distinct goal in mind: “No more songs,” which might suggest a return to the lysergic, patchwork hip-hop production he’d cut his teeth on in the early 2010s.
Nearly is anything but that. It’s packed with some of the most tasteful, delicate pop compositions of Jenkins’ career, dotted with plucky guitars and keys that leave behind long, misty reverb tails. You might imagine the stems of an extended Budd and Guthrie-esque jam re-arranging themselves in the DAW, Sorcerer’s Apprentice style, while Jenkins was out of office, desperate to become three-minute sophisti-pop tunes. And they’d be right to do so: Nearly is an effortlessly pretty record that’s even more minimal and spacious than its gracefully muted predecessor.
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Nearly is all about restraint, particularly in terms of performance. There are few drum fills—mostly simple kick-snare patterns if there’s any percussion at all—and chords are often divided into pointillist arpeggios. On the mic, Jenkins channels Peter Gabriel’s mysticism through the murmured cadence of chillwave acts like Washed Out. No element is doing anything flashy in its raw state. Instead, the unique reverb and effects chain attached to each channel supply a lot of the emotive work. You’ll remember the way the cymbal crashes dissipate like ocean spray on “Forget Performer” or the way the dry verse on “Very Few Inspirations” disintegrates into its hook more than any particular topline. Where Affection felt eager to prove itself, furnished with uptempo rhythm sections and ambitious (if not cheesy) prog affectations on songs like “World_train,” these new songs are self-assured enough to stew in their own beauty.
When the material is as strong as “Young Shiver,” it’s hard to fault them. The track is a masterclass in patience and tension: Frame by frame, a strange hero’s journey unfolds through fragmentary memories and epic images of “waves and fires.” Jenkins opens the track with little more than some seasick synths that undulate uncertainly beneath the verse until a steady drumbeat arrives like an unexpected shore and sets things right. It’s a collision of elements that are, on their own, almost insultingly simple. Together, they lock seamlessly into place, laying a stable foundation for stranger experiments like the stuttering vocal chops and reverb swells that color the coda. Even at the album’s densest, Nearly is more likely to make you feel like floating away than cutting a rug: so much of it is comprised of echoes and afterimages, glimmering with distortion and film grain.
