Today I’m so excited to bring everyone the newest single and music video from Canadian hardcore punk group, Empty Nesters, called “Shanri-Nah.” The track features a great guest spot from Clay Pigeon, and the single comes from Empty Nesters’ forthcoming EP, Deaf Monks, out everywhere you stream your music on July 11th. If you’re enjoying the new video, please consider pre-saving the EP here.
“Shangri-Nah” opens with the line ‘I have this constant need to do something with my life.’ How does that lyric reflect the broader emotional or philosophical core of the song? Was there a specific moment or feeling that inspired it?
That lyric came from a place of restless anxiety. For a long time, I’ve felt like I’ve just been going through the motions—working a 9-to-5, handling daily responsibilities, and doing what’s necessary just to get by. None of it feels rewarding. Outside of my creative work, I haven’t felt fulfilled. That line reflects this tension—this constant itch to do something meaningful, to make something that reminds me I’m alive. “Shangri-Nah” channels that frustration: the feeling of being stuck in a loop and craving something more, anything that gives purpose beyond survival.
The video feels just as intense and chaotic as the track itself. How did you approach translating the sound and energy of “Shangri-Nah” into visuals? Were there any visual references or moods you were aiming to capture?
The video is a compilation from our time at Fredericton playing Flourish in 2023 and a camping/cabin trip last summer with my friends. I had my VHS camcorder on me and started filming. It wasn’t shot with a clear concept in mind—it just naturally captured moments of disconnection, chaotic fun and fleeting peace, the lyrics of “Shangri-Nah” reflected after editing all that footage.
Hardcore-punk is often about breaking form and pushing limits—musically and personally. How did “Shangri-Nah” challenge you as an artist, either in terms of songwriting, performance, or emotional vulnerability?
“Shangri-Nah” pushed me to be more honest than I’ve ever been in my songwriting. It’s not hiding behind metaphor or genre—it’s direct, anxious, and vulnerable. Sonically, it forced me to step outside my comfort zone and embrace chaos while still making something cohesive. I also had to push my voice and performance further than I had before. It’s messy on purpose, because that’s how life felt when I wrote it—restless, ungrounded, and desperate for change.