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Mass Extinction. Ocean Acidification. Desertification. Deforestation. Extreme weather events. Coral Reef bleaching. Rising CO2 levels. Food shortages. Climate refugees. The spread of ancient diseases. These phenomena, more plausible (and more devastating) by the day, portend an even worse fate: annihilation. Not for the Earth, though our shared home will inevitably take on a radically altered form. No, oblivion sets its sights on us, the masters of industry, the refuse of the Reagan Revolution, consumers, producers, and victims alike. In the face of these existential threats, action becomes an imperative. Protests, sabotage, and the cultivation of clean energy are noble pursuits, no doubt. But what role does art play in articulating the sickness that ails us? Does the artist have a responsibility to address the crises that define the present moment? Is it inevitable that such projects degenerate into smug posturing, flimsy excuses for both artist and audience to suck themselves off? Enter Massa Nera, a lowly, nominally screamo band slithering through the godforsaken suburban sprawl of New Jersey. The group, through bassist Aeryn Jade Santillan, was given a commission by the Gabriela Lena Frank Creative Academy of Music (as part of its Composing Earth series) to write music that addresses the climate crisis. Thus, they were faced with the challenge outlined above: how might they tackle this topic, it all its import and enormity, while avoiding self-satisfied, holier-than-thou pomp? The band decided to embrace experimentation and confrontation like never before. Where once their songs bounced, they now alternately lumber and convulse. An impulse towards dance has mutated into a desire for destruction. Their knack for visceral rhythmic pleasure has contorted into something ugly and unsettling. This musical malfeasance is counterbalanced by passages of beauty, longing, and even undisguised gentleness. The band also expanded their vocal palette, employing a dynamic mixture of screams, shouts, whispers, howls, and singing in an attempt to summon a veritable cornucopia of complex emotions. Lyrically, Massa Nera has shunned autobiography in favor of something more character-driven, more literary, more speculative. They invite listeners to lose themselves in a world that resembles ours - perhaps it is the world that awaits us if we continue on the road of inaction. They offer a snapshot of the end times rooted in psychology, lived experience, and complicity. In short, this is a lyrical call to arms, delivered not as a rallying cry but as an obituary. It is a mirror held up to the abyss, reflected back at us so that we might stare slack-jawed at the vapid, inane, meaningless hell in which we live.“We're relieved to finally share The Emptiness of All Things with people,” said the band, speaking in unison while toiling away in their putrid, fetid underground compound. Surrounded by distortion pedals, frayed Mark Fisher books, and piss-yellow photos of decrepit brutalist buildings, they added, “This album was a true undertaking, exciting and torturous in equal measure. It was not cathartic in the least. We hope people feel better listening to it than we did making it.” Tears streaming down their faces as Burial's Untrue pumped through a blown-out computer speaker, they added, “not too much better, though. ”Is it inevitable that records like The Emptiness of All Things accomplish little more than preaching to the choir? Do such works, ostensibly intended to galvanize, calcify instead? In this era of extreme atomization, in which the very idea of a shared reality has been eradicated, is this little more than a fool’s errand? Perhaps not. But if such albums are indeed a fool's errand, better they sound as exciting, unpredictable, and confident as this. If nothing else, with The Emptiness of All Things, Massa Nera has turned foolishness into a noble pursuit.