![and then nothing turned itself inside-out rar and then nothing turned itself inside-out rar](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/51kBnr%2B1F7L._AC_SX466_.jpg)
Few people write love songs like Kaplan, who sings about his wife with inspirational tenderness. “ I remember a summer’s day/ I remember walking up to you/ I remember pretending I wasn’t looking,” he mumbles, as though bashful about his recollections. Kaplan recounts nervous early moments and broken guitars in his classic, gentle mumble. The mournful tone of Hubley makes the earnest snapshots of tender moments in the romance between Kaplan and Hubley feel all the sweeter by comparison with “Our Way to Fall,” birthing one of the most un-jaded indie rock love songs in the canon.
![and then nothing turned itself inside-out rar and then nothing turned itself inside-out rar](https://brill.com/cover/covers/9789004440494.jpg)
The layers of “Everyday” steadily grow, heaping on the gloom by the truckload – and then Hubley begins singing a quiet “ Ba-shoo-wah, ba ba-shoo-wah,” and the listener remembers that they never take themselves too seriously. Anything resembling Kaplan’s guitar playing is reserved for specific moments, while James McNew’s hypnotic bassline slithers menacingly though the song. A buzz and muted drum beat run through the length of the song Georgia Hubley quietly takes the lead with a bleak list of desires: “ I wanna cross my heart/ I wanna hope to die,” “ When Tuesday comes, I want nothing/ When Wednesday comes, I want the same. It has the same quiet bones as the rest of the album, but the tone is ominous. Singer/guitarist Ira Kaplan would later say in an interview, “Our music got a lot quieter because we weren’t competing with eight other bands in a Brooklyn rehearsal space.” Moments of loudness are rare, leaving most of the album’s 70-minute runtime in a state of hush that the band are remarkably adept at capturing. Nothing is a nighttime record, one that begs to be listened to on quiet summer nights. Here, they decided to pare their hyperactive ambitions down and work within a single atmosphere: one that feels, in almost every crevice, nocturnal. Yo La Tengo are not the kind of band that has ever done what was expected of them, though, which makes their 2000 follow-up, And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out, such a welcome surprise. To try to recapture that kind of magic seems a recipe for disappointment. The end result is a band unafraid to explore wildly, approaching everything from krautrock-inspired instrumental tracks to weirdo pop songs to Neil Young send-ups with equal zeal, knocking it out of the park on each and every song. A staggering work in terms of scope, they took all of the guitar pop strengths the band showed on Electr-O-Pura and Painful, tightened them to an absurd degree, and threw them into a blender with every other sonic urge they had. How do you follow up a classic? 1997’s I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One by Yo La Tengo presented the band with this question.