When Dreamers—Nick Wold (vocals/guitar), Nelson (bass), and Jacob Wick (drums)—talk about its debut LP ‘This Album Does Not Exist’, they assume a collective tone of considerate existentialism. They seek to counter the crassness of pop, the snobbery of jazz, and the pretention of indie that zaps the fun out of any music with meaning. Yet, they want to draw you in, indiscriminate of taste, style, or ideology.
Yet, these songs of playfulness come from a place of less—homelessness, joblessness, borderline hopelessness. In 2014, Wold simultaneously vacated a relationship and an apartment and began living in his Brooklyn practice room.
After two years of living in what Nelson jokes was a “musical prison,” Wold wrote than 100 songs, many of which ended up on ‘This Album Does Not Exist‘.
So now, after bouts of vagrancy, nomadism, and vigilant attempts at normalcy, Dreamers calls Los Angeles home, committed to its collective vision of artistry, inclusion, and idealism.
Led by singles like “Drugs” and “Sweet Disaster,” Dreamers pits the party and the paranoia of escapism in seemingly effortlessly tight, three-minute tunes. Album tracks like “Pain Killer” and “Lucky Dog” follow in this vein, swinging with handclaps and driving with sing-along choruses. Throughout ‘This Album Does Not Exist‘, Dreamers toys with themes of existence and existentialism, but it’s easy enough to get sucked into their world and dance the big questions away.
That’s the dreamer MO, after all—to find the joy in living and to chase it.