"Nightmare Muscle" and the avant-anxious world of Fusilier

Good things come to those who wait, and it's certainly been a long wait for fans of Fusilier. Having previously released a slew of singles that captured the heart of the New York City art rock scene, they were soon left floating in the moors unanchored to one solidified full-length. Emerging again last month with a transcendent R&B-tinged cut "Birds", Fusilier is finally on the precipice of his debut album, Ambush, coming March 28th.

Teasing another snippet of its avant-anxious sound, latest cut "Nightmare Muscle" is grist to the mill in proving Fusilier comes alive in the uncanny, and the absurd. He is an artist that operates within the static and crackling electricity of his own buzz, equal parts self-conscious and self-realised, and unafraid to look inwards, uncovering what he finds for art. Tackling his own ambition, bravado, and identity in the context of an increasingly commodifying and competitive world, his music has an urgency running through its production that underscores its cutting, precise lyricism.

In fact, the bright melodies of "Nightmare Muscle" disguise some sordid truths about trudging through life all the while the weight of the world is forcing you down. Fusilier explains, “It takes a special kind of strength not to waste away into nothing given the horrors of the world and the horrors of our aging bodies and minds." Its accompanying music video is frenetic and discordant, a collage of snapshots of New York at nighttime that could have been captured via CCTV, chasing Fusilier in an elusive game of cat and mouse. Just when the camera thinks its cornered him, Fusilier can be seen fleeing in the next frame: a thoughtful reminder of life's unrelenting unfairness, and the feeling of always being on the run.

Reviving '90s alternative and '00s pop-punk with its anthemic choruses, "Nightmare Muscle" is an exasperation; the aftermath of being kept down and compressed, and the subsequent liberating release of escaping the shackles and disappearing into the night. Fusilier's music is as much a malleable product shaped by the pressures of the world, as it is a cautionary tale or collective vent with listeners. “When I started Ambush I thought it was something I was doing, bombarding the world with a bunch of world-changing songs,” he explains with a laugh. “The more I thought about it and fleshed it out, the more I realised that it was something being done to me everyday, from seemingly innocent advertisements to full-on macro aggressions.”