On the cover of her sophomore record CACTI, Tor Maries, aka Billy Nomates, postures herself as such — a cactus with limbs bent askew, off-balance but proud nonetheless. Raised in a fringe working-class household, Nomates creates music that's rugged and spiny — beautiful, but dangerous when approached too close. She's a rabid post-punker with righteous frustration and agitated barbs, but just as a cactus keeps itself alive with its own reservoir of water, Nomates sustains herself with a guarded but potent sense of hope within.
Whether she's fending off the dangers of misogyny, a socioeconomic reality that can only be described as "barely making it," or a pandemic that robbed her of accolades that should have come with her debut album, a seething but persevering energy flows intensely CACTI.
While her debut was shrouded in post-Brexit, mid-pandemic malaise, Nomates adopts a far more life-affirming tone this time to refreshing effect. On the absurdly catchy lead single "blue bones (deathwish)," she pushes against death and feelings of apathy by choosing life, singing over the track's subtle synth-driven goodness that "death don't turn [her] on like he used to." By personifying and subsequently reducing death as some tangible, unfulfilling partner, Nomates reminds us that we have the power to get up and leave when such emotions and urges creep in.
On the Springsteen-indebted "spite," Nomates reinforces this positive feedback loop with an anthem about reclaiming independence and self-belief when it's simply too hard to believe in yourself. "I know you think you hold all your power over me," Nomates opens the track, "but you don't / only I hold power over me." Seemingly directing her anger at another, this opening statement evolves into a more all-encompassing push against the oppressive weight of multiple forces. She kicks back against these feelings of festering inadequacy with an unshakeable counterstrike, a confidence made all the more believable by the strained passion that barrels from her chest.
Throughout CACTI, Nomates sings with an earnest passion, so much so that even her more depressive words still beat with hope. Though she admits that "her inner peace is broken into 5" on the jittery album opener "balance is gone," this seeming hopelessness is fleeting — a mere brushstroke of bleakness compared to the massively cynical portraits she painted throughout her last record.
Nomates is walking into her 30s with a positive pep in her step, but this isn't to say there aren't moments of self-interrogation, where her steely eye turns inward and produces unrestrained expressions of regret, self-doubt, and self-hatred. On the watery-eyed "saboteur forcefield," Nomates admits to self-destructive behavior and her tendency to ruin something when it feels too good to be true. Then there's the burbling "roundabout sadness," where she wails with misery and lament in her voice, reflecting on the cyclical depression and sense of inevitability that plague daily life. However, this "roundabout sadness," as unstoppable as it may feel, is finite — Nomates speaks to this sometimes elusive knowledge as the album reaches its conclusion with "blackout signal," CACTI's most beautiful and sobering moment. Sadness, depression, and every feeling between are simply unavoidable — but when the "walls fall down" and the "blackout signal" lights, there is reprieve.
CACTI teaches listeners about living through the dying, offering a danceable and shapeshifting post-punk guide to tapping into the regenerative spring of resilience that flows through us like water. Knowing that we stand proud and bent alongside other cacti braving this wasted desert we call life is an odd comfort, but one made possible by the emotive talents of Nomates. All by her lonesome, this one-person band holds the balance of apathy and positivity effortlessly, rendering CACTI with just enough hope to gradually peak through the clouds. By the time the final track arrives, the sun strikes through to beat upon the proud and sturdy cacti below.
(Invada)Whether she's fending off the dangers of misogyny, a socioeconomic reality that can only be described as "barely making it," or a pandemic that robbed her of accolades that should have come with her debut album, a seething but persevering energy flows intensely CACTI.
While her debut was shrouded in post-Brexit, mid-pandemic malaise, Nomates adopts a far more life-affirming tone this time to refreshing effect. On the absurdly catchy lead single "blue bones (deathwish)," she pushes against death and feelings of apathy by choosing life, singing over the track's subtle synth-driven goodness that "death don't turn [her] on like he used to." By personifying and subsequently reducing death as some tangible, unfulfilling partner, Nomates reminds us that we have the power to get up and leave when such emotions and urges creep in.
On the Springsteen-indebted "spite," Nomates reinforces this positive feedback loop with an anthem about reclaiming independence and self-belief when it's simply too hard to believe in yourself. "I know you think you hold all your power over me," Nomates opens the track, "but you don't / only I hold power over me." Seemingly directing her anger at another, this opening statement evolves into a more all-encompassing push against the oppressive weight of multiple forces. She kicks back against these feelings of festering inadequacy with an unshakeable counterstrike, a confidence made all the more believable by the strained passion that barrels from her chest.
Throughout CACTI, Nomates sings with an earnest passion, so much so that even her more depressive words still beat with hope. Though she admits that "her inner peace is broken into 5" on the jittery album opener "balance is gone," this seeming hopelessness is fleeting — a mere brushstroke of bleakness compared to the massively cynical portraits she painted throughout her last record.
Nomates is walking into her 30s with a positive pep in her step, but this isn't to say there aren't moments of self-interrogation, where her steely eye turns inward and produces unrestrained expressions of regret, self-doubt, and self-hatred. On the watery-eyed "saboteur forcefield," Nomates admits to self-destructive behavior and her tendency to ruin something when it feels too good to be true. Then there's the burbling "roundabout sadness," where she wails with misery and lament in her voice, reflecting on the cyclical depression and sense of inevitability that plague daily life. However, this "roundabout sadness," as unstoppable as it may feel, is finite — Nomates speaks to this sometimes elusive knowledge as the album reaches its conclusion with "blackout signal," CACTI's most beautiful and sobering moment. Sadness, depression, and every feeling between are simply unavoidable — but when the "walls fall down" and the "blackout signal" lights, there is reprieve.
CACTI teaches listeners about living through the dying, offering a danceable and shapeshifting post-punk guide to tapping into the regenerative spring of resilience that flows through us like water. Knowing that we stand proud and bent alongside other cacti braving this wasted desert we call life is an odd comfort, but one made possible by the emotive talents of Nomates. All by her lonesome, this one-person band holds the balance of apathy and positivity effortlessly, rendering CACTI with just enough hope to gradually peak through the clouds. By the time the final track arrives, the sun strikes through to beat upon the proud and sturdy cacti below.
