Nyxy Nyx – Cult Classics Vol. 1

Nyxy Nyx have been circling the underground for over a decade now. Started by Brian Reichert and Drew Saracco back in 2014, the project thrived in the shadows of Philly basements and DIY art spaces. Releases were handed out as tapes, burned CDs, or random files that changed every time you pressed play. Sometimes songs were re-recorded, sometimes whole tracklists vanished. Nyxy Nyx lived in that liminal space between permanence and disappearance, where music felt like an artifact you might never find again.

But Cult Classics Vol. 1 is different. It’s the first full-band studio record, pressed into something unshakable thanks to Julia’s War Recordings. Reichert is joined by Tim Jordan (Sun Organ), Benjamin Schurr (Luna Honey), Alex Ha (ex-Knifeplay), with appearances from Madeline Johnston (Midwife) and Josh Meakim (A Sunny Day in Glasgow). The album nails down the sludgy, hypnotic weight of their live shows while still bending reality into strange, warped reflections.

So what is the album all about, here’s what the band have to say.

That’s quite the intro, lets hit play and see where it takes us.

The album opens with the sludgy tones of ‘Empty Gesture’. It lurches forward like a half-broken machine grinding into gear, vocals all but consumed in the fuzz until they feel more like a ghostly chant than words. The track sways between control and collapse, daring you to lean in closer even as it pushes you away. There’s a wonky beauty in how unstable it feels. Ok I’m in!

The mood changes entirely on ‘They Called U Wild’, which leans into the slowcore sound. The duel vocals this time are very much floating along on the sound of the gentle guitar lines. There’s a lilt in the rhythm that makes the whole track feel unhurried, like two voices wandering in parallel without ever needing to meet in the middle. It feels woozy, like a late-night conversation whispered between friends.

When ‘Hold Me (I’m Shaking)’ drifts in, the record brings its two vibes together. The slowcore mood continues with that sludgy sound being used for emphasis, like musical punctuation. The guitars grind in, heavy but never suffocating, giving the song a weight that makes every lyric land harder. The vocal feels exposed, trembling on the edge of collapse, and when it cracks against the fuzz it’s raw enough to stop you cold. The contrast between fragility and noise makes the track sting. You can feel the body in the performance like the sense that the song might fall apart mid-play. That unpredictability keeps you on point. When the band hit those louder moments, it doesn’t feel like a shift in volume, it feels like someone crying out after holding too much in. It’s messy, human, and unforgettable.

Up next is my album highlight ‘I Don’t Know Much About Love’. You may have heard this on my DKFM show last month. I love the subtle grandeur of it all. The chord sequence over the title being sung in just exquisite where simplicity feels monumental. The repetition works like a slow spell, circling back again and again until it seeps under your skin.  Played loud, the track swells in the room until it feels cathedral-like, but not polished or pristine. More like stumbling into a half-ruined church at night and hearing the echoes of a hymn still bouncing off the stone. It’s solemn, fragile, and utterly gripping. This is the one I keep coming back to.

‘Ashtray’ turns up sharper and nastier thumbing its nose at our expectations. The guitars cut through with jagged theatrical edges. It’s the closest the album gets to a punk sneer, messy and defiant, but still weighed down by the sludge underneath. The bass gnaws at the bottom end, dragging the track through the dirt, while the drums stumble forward like they’re daring everything else to keep up.

There’s an unkempt charm to it, like the band deliberately left the rough edges showing. The track laughs at the idea of polish, and that’s what makes it spark. If the earlier songs were heavy with introspection, ‘Ashtray’ is the messy, smoke-filled answer back; blunt, brash, and impossible to ignore.

Then comes ‘The Stray’, which is the perfect balance of mood for me. It has that wonky woozy charm but below it all is a killer melody peering through the haze. The guitars bend and sway as if slightly out of step, giving the whole thing a loose, stumbling quality, yet the tune at its core is unmistakable. That’s what makes it hit. When the band lean into the swell, the track blooms into something huge without ever losing that crooked sway.

‘In Haze’ slips into view like the world softening at the edges. It’s dizzying, narcotic, but also strangely soothing. Lush slowcore vibes wash over you. That dual vocal trick works like a charm again, two voices blurring into one, as if they’re drifting in and out of the same dream. The pace is glacial; every chord allowed to hang and dissolve before the next one rolls in. You almost lose track of time, suspended in the song’s fog, not caring where it’s headed. What’s striking is how peaceful it feels even with all that weight pressing down. There’s no urgency, no sharp turns, just a woozy pull that makes you want to stay inside it.

The closer ‘Endless Hex’ makes good on the title. It sprawls, unravelling into a slow, crushing finale that doesn’t so much end as dissolve into itself. The band sound like they’re dragging every last ounce of weight from their instruments. It’s heavy, yes, but also strangely tender in how it refuses to let go. You’re left with ringing ears and a lingering sense of dislocation, as if the record hasn’t quite finished with you.

Cult Classics Vol. 1 isn’t about clarity or resolution. It’s about being caught in cycles, haunted by echoes, stuck in loops you can’t quite escape. Every song here feels lived-in and uncertain, like it might collapse at any second, yet together they form a body of work that finally fixes Nyxy Nyx in place without losing their mystery. For a band that has always shifted like smoke, that permanence feels almost shocking. And maybe that’s the point. The cult is no longer a secret. The classics are real this time. You can hold them, you can buy them, you can listen again and again. Just be prepared though: the hex is endless.

Cult Classics Vol. 1 is out September 12 via Julia’s War Recordings. Give the band a follow on the Nyxy Nyx Bandcamp page.

 
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