How nothing,nowhere. found solace & channeled his rage into VOID ETERNAL, his heaviest album yet

Somewhere deep in the corners of a shrouded Vermont near the Canadian border, nothing,nowhere. is rehearsing one of the first live sets dedicated to his latest album, VOID ETERNAL. He confidently describes how crisp each practice session has gone. “We keep laughing after every song because we can’t believe how good it sounds,” he says. “We’re excited.” 

Leaping to become the epicenter of underground emo, nothing,nowhere., the project of Joseph Edward Mulherin, quickly gained a devout cult following when he debuted in the mid-2010s for his honest storytelling and grief-stricken songs. Now, with the release of VOID ETERNAL (out now on Fueled by Ramen), nothing,nowhere. has embraced a hardcore, nü-metal sound that builds upon his own foundation and embodies his earliest inspirations. With an impressive track list featuring Pete Wentz, Underoath and more, he even teams up with some of his favorite musicians throughout the record. 

Read more: 20 greatest Fueled By Ramen bands

Growing up in Foxborough, Massachusetts, nothing,nowhere. longed to live in his neighboring state of Vermont even before his career exploded. “The quiet life really attracted me,” he says. “I started snowboarding when I was 2-years-old, me and my dad. I actually ended up competing in snowboarding growing up, so every weekend I would drive to Vermont and go to the mountain. It became a second home to me.”

Music was where his passion met his dreams, as Mulherin remembers his mother driving him to and from guitar lessons when he began to take music seriously. When he began playing shows with his friends, he would “be stoked” to play for crowds of even just 10 people. “I remember I made my own little vegan, straight-edge hardcore band, and the only people in the crowd were the other bands playing the show,” he laughs. 

After developing an online following once he started releasing music as nothing,nowhere., Mulherin’s merch orders began to skyrocket. Shipping products out from his parents house, at the time Mulherin was also recording songs in his Subaru Outback, including the viral sensation “letdown.”

While trekking through college and a film career, Mulherin dedicated himself to his future. “I knew what I wanted and what I wanted to do was be a musician,” Mulherin recalls, saying he released his first song as an art history final. “I had something to say and I was really hungry. I had this relentless ambition that I couldn’t shake.”

nothing,nowhere. had expertly curated a cult following built upon his early years, but the 2017 major label debut Reaper set him on a whole new trajectory. “It was everything I always wanted, but at the same time, too much too quick,” he recollects. “It was really overwhelming because it puts a lot of pressure on yourself to follow it up or continue to make the type of music that people are expecting. It took me a long time to crawl out of that hole. I have to keep following my own intuition like I have my whole life.”

While his musical dreams continued to ascend with the 2018 release of his sophomore album Ruiner, Mulherin hit an instantaneous fall. He recalls that 2018 was the worst year of his life. After an exhaustive backpacking trip for Fathers Day, Mulherin was staying in a cabin on the tip of the mountain when he experienced a panic attack. Managing to make it down the trail the next morning amid a restless night, Mulherin notes that he never felt the same after that incident.  

Continuing to deal with mental health concerns when he returned home, nothing,nowhere. canceled his headlining tour. At a crossroads in both life and his career, he sought out help, including staying active, starting therapy, and realizing “it’s not admitting defeat” to start taking antidepressants. “I got out of my own way, and hopefully more people can realize it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he says.

“My anxiety got so bad I would do anything to not feel the way that I do in my skin. I’ve been sober my whole life and I grew up kind of closed minded and I wasn’t fully understanding of addicts and alcoholics … It wasn’t until then that I fully sympathized and realized if you’re in that dark place, you will do anything to not feel the way you do. I just wish I got out of my own way and hopefully more people can realize it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” 

Spiritualism found its way back into Mulherin’s life after he had fallen out of practice. He visited the largest Thai monastery in the country to reclaim his own solitude and mindfulness. “I went and I sat with one of the monks there and we just sat in silence,” he says. “That’s all that I needed. I needed someone else to be there and sit with me and teach me how to be present with my thoughts and not to fight my feelings, but to really feel them. I ended up doing that for quite some time at the same temple, so it was a really transformative period of my life.”   

Mulherin came back focused. His 2021 album Trauma Factory hit even more milestones, including spots on top alternative charts and extended radio play, but VOID ETERNAL includes a new ferocity that has yet to be seen from him. Mulherin openly wrestles with his anxiety, derealization, and depression throughout the album, fueling the album with heartbreaking lyrics and a piercing voice. While sorrow filled early nothing,nowhere. projects, VOID ETERNAL is brimming with emotional agony and vexation. 

A pivotal contrast in sound featuring 12 songs and production from Blake Hardman, Erik Ron, as well as Garden Avenue members Taylor Morgan and Brody McKeegan, this is the heaviest nothing,nowhere. project to date. Progressive instrumentals and post-hardcore stylings are what he cites as being a source of inspiration that allow for a refreshing release of his feelings. 

He says, “I came up with the name on a very pessimistic day where I was thinking about what happens after you die and what if it is nothing and everything is for nothing? This album was written in darkness in a bad mindset — but it was put into music. I didn’t take it out on myself, I took it out on the recordings.”

“I always wanted to make this type of record, honestly, and I pride myself on really trying to push the envelope,” he says. “I’ve been crying and whining on my songs for almost eight years now, and this is a different side of human emotion.

Having the most features of any nothing,nowhere. album, Mulherin has great memories of hearing Freddie Dredd rap over his breakdown for the first time, and securing an eventual dream collaboration.

“When I had asked Pete [Wentz] to do the song, I knew it had been a long time, so I wasn’t sure if he’d really go for it or not. When he sent it back, my jaw was on the floor [because] it’s so brutally heavy. He killed the spoken word, and it just goes to show he is such a veteran and such an OG — like, it blew my mind.”

From the moment he wrote “MEMORY_FRACTURE,” which felt like an “aha moment” discovering the right sound for the record to co-producing a drill beat and landing an Underoath feature, he couldn’t be more proud of VOID ETERNAL‘s direction. He says, “The only goal I have in mind when I make a record is I just want to make myself proud and to make a record for me, honestly.” 

Today Mulherin rejoices in the blizzard drifting escapes of Vermont. When Mulherin isn’t busy practicing his signature croon and belching screams, he is taking French lessons or driving dirt bikes. Five chickens, maple-tapped trees and several acres of land surround Mulherin in his newly renovated barn where he’s found solace. “When I bought this house it was a garage, and it was in rough shape,” he says. “I decided to renovate it and turn it into a rehearsal spot and a studio. It’s always been a dream of mine. … it’s a complete and total serene spot.” 

With touring set to close out the year, nothing,nowhere. plans to stay busy. When asked about the possibility of a Midwest emo-inspired, twinkle guitar album, he assures that it’s “definitely on the horizon,” along with a possible LIL TOFU mixtape or vinyl pressings of never, forever.

Across the tree lines of the Green Mountain State, nothing,nowhere. is at peace in his new normalcy. “I’m not trying to prove anyone else wrong,” he insists. “I’m trying to prove myself right. I’m trying to do right by that 12-year-old kid playing guitar.”