Released on August 29, 2025 through Iodine Recordings, “Feel The Teeth” finds The Casket Lottery tracing the thin line between exhaustion and revelation.
It’s an album that doesn’t roar as much as it exhales, built on moments that feel half-awake—where clarity flickers through fatigue and doubt. Where 2020’s “Short Songs for End Times” fought chaos head-on, this new record lingers in what’s left after the noise, in the uneasy calm that follows a long stretch of endurance.
Nathan Ellis describes “Nightsong” as a reflection of how time and trauma reshape the body and mind: “I don’t sleep very well anymore… now I just have these moments between being awake and my hypnogogic hallucinations.” That blurred space defines much of “Feel The Teeth”.
The songs circle around the slow realization that life has changed in ways that can’t be undone. In “Bell Penny”, Ellis examines the conflict between self-preservation and empathy, while “Echolalia” admits to a belated understanding of time passing—“A song about middle age enlightenment. Realizing that I spent so many years wanting, when all I needed were the moments I had.”
The recurring image of teeth, as Ellis notes, wasn’t even intentional: “Purely coincidence, actually. I didn’t even realize it until the record was in the can.” Yet it lingers as a fitting metaphor for pain that won’t stay buried, for the daily grind of staying alive. Tracks like “Snake Dreams” and “Nothing Certain” chew on anxiety, decay, and quiet transformation—small, inevitable violences that accompany getting older and still caring enough to make noise.
Writing “Feel The Teeth” also meant facing absence. Ellis had already finished writing and demoing the record when longtime bandmate Stacy Hilt decided to step away. “We had a lot of conversations around it and I completely understand why he wanted to put it down,” Ellis says. “It’s a lot of work to keep the plates spinning for no other reason than just wanting to create loud noises with your friends. I was not ready to stop.” The result is a record that sounds both solitary and communal, the product of persistence rather than momentum.
Ellis doesn’t frame the record as a statement of resilience, but more as a continuation of habit. “The only reason to do it now is because it’s fun,” he says. “If you aren’t enjoying yourself playing music in your 40+’s then you’ll stop. It’s very easy to stay home. I had a period in time a while back when I tried to quit and I just couldn’t do it. For some reason I still love to make music.” Still, he’s clear-eyed about the less romantic parts: “I do hate the other admin bullshit that comes along with being in a band though. Taxes and creating content. Fuck that.”
That dry sense of humor threads through even the darkest songs. “It’s all so absurd and I think it’s important to call it what it is as often as possible,” Ellis says. “Whether or not it comes off as humor or insanity probably depends on my mood at the moment.”
The closing track, “Snake Dreams”, was the last written for the record and the one Ellis feels best captures where The Casket Lottery stand now. It’s a final exhale—haunted, uncertain, still searching. “Writing the next thing is always about creating something interesting that moves me,” he adds. “My favorite part of being in a band is always ‘What’s next.’”
Our full conversation with Nathan Ellis dives deeper into these ideas—about insomnia, middle age, the Kansas City scene, and the strange persistence of making music long after the world has stopped asking for it. Read the full interview below.
Answered by Nathan Ellis
You’ve been through a lot of lineup and life changes over the years. How do you personally know when a song is still “a Casket Lottery song” and not just a fragment of yourself floating around?
NE: I’ve been writing these songs for so long that I think the way I write is just naturally for The Casket Lottery. I would have to intentionally write in a different way for a different project, but otherwise The CL just happens.
When you were putting these new songs together, did you feel like you were building from scratch again, or more like carrying an old house that keeps getting repaired and remodeled?
NE: When I was writing this record, as a new The Casket Lottery record, I didn’t know that Stacy Hilt wasn’t going to be around to finish the project with me. I had the record written and demoed when he decided to call it a day. We had a lot of conversations around it and I completely understand why he wanted to put it down. It’s a lot of work to keep the plates spinning for no other reason than just wanting to create loud noises with your friends. I was not ready to stop.
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Some of these tracks sound like they come from that half-awake, half-asleep space. What’s the weirdest thing your mind has thrown at you in those hours between night terrors and daylight?
NE: I really don’t remember many dreams these days, but I do wake up with ideas or phrases repeating in my head. Oftentimes it’s a good idea to jot those down, or even wake all the way up and see it through.
Teeth as a metaphor runs through the record. Did that come from a single moment, like a dream or an image you couldn’t shake, or was it more of a slow accumulation of associations?
NE: Purely coincidence, actually. I didn’t even realize it until the record was in the can.
Panic attacks, insomnia, middle age doubts… all those heavy currents are in there, but there’s also something almost dryly humorous in the way you write about them. Do you see humor as survival instinct in your music?
NE: I’ve never really thought of it that way, but I definitely do that in my day to day life, so it only makes sense that it shows up in the lyrics. It’s all so absurd and I think it’s important to call it what it is as often as possible. It helps keep everything in perspective. Whether or not it comes off as humor or insanity probably depends on my mood at the moment.
There’s that constant tug between self-preservation and empathy in your lyrics. How do you keep that balance in real life without tipping into total burnout?
NE: That is the big question these days. I think I have struggled with that for a decade now and I don’t have a good answer. The one thing that I know that has helped me personally is having an amazing family and friend group that I can always count on when I need connection.
Do you ever find yourself writing with an imagined audience in mind, or is it more like leaving notes for your future self to stumble upon?
NE: Hmmm. There is something to the idea that a future self will reinterpret what I’ve written in a completely new way. I love when that happens.
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Who’s been surprising you locally these past couple of years—any younger bands or artists around KC or the Midwest that made you feel that old thrill again in 2024 or 2025?
NE: A few weeks ago we played our record release show here in Kansas City with our old friends Appleseed Cast and a young band called Flooding. I really loved watching Flooding because it just felt so fresh and nostalgic. They are loud and quiet and play with confidence.
When you look at the wider underground now, what excites you more: the records people are making, or the ways scenes are figuring out how to survive and keep going?
NE: The evolution of the scene is always interesting to me. Not just in what bands are sounding like… a lot of that is “what’s old is new again”, but I think it’s fascinating that the underground scene always has a new set of challenges. It’s always 2 steps forward and 1 step back, but no matter what, the band is the last in the process to earn a buck.
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You’ve been through cycles of intensity, breaks, and comebacks. What’s the difference between writing in your twenties versus now—not just technically, but in how you even approach why you’re doing it at all?
NE: The only reason to do it now is because it’s fun. If you aren’t enjoying yourself playing music in your 40+’s then you’ll stop. It’s more difficult to line up schedules with like-minded bandmates the older you get. It’s very easy to stay home. I had a period in time a while back when I tried to quit and I just couldn’t do it. For some reason I still love to make music. I do hate the other admin bullshit that comes along with being in a band though. Taxes and creating content. Fuck that.
Losing long-term bandmates can feel almost like losing family. Did that force you to re-evaluate what kind of relationships you want in a band, or did it just harden your sense that this project has to keep breathing no matter what?
NE: It only made me question if I could keep calling the band The Casket Lottery. I landed on moving forward as is because I wrote these songs and I love these songs and I don’t want to stop playing these songs.
How do you personally know a song is finished? Is it when the emotion is spent, when the structure clicks, or do you just have to walk away before you ruin it?
NE: Some of all of that! Mostly it’s about the structure and if it’s interesting upon completion.
If someone who’s never heard The Casket Lottery asked you which moment on the new record sums up what the band is now—not what it was, not the history—what part would you play for them?
NE: Probably the last song, Snake Dreams. It was the last song written for the record.
Do you feel like you’re still searching for something through this band, or is it more about holding on to what you’ve already found?
NE: Of those two options, it’s searching. Writing the next thing is always about creating something interesting that moves me. My favorite part of being in a band is always “What’s next.”
Catch the band live at the following stops:
Oct 10, 2025 – San Antonio, TX – Paper Tiger – 6:00 PM
Oct 11, 2025 – Dallas, TX – The Bomb Factory – 7:00 PM
Oct 12, 2025 – Houston, TX – House of Blues Houston – 6:00 PM
Oct 24–26, 2025 – Gainesville, FL – The FEST23 2025
Nov 15, 2025 – Ames, IA – The Maintenance Shop – 8:00 PM
Nov 19, 2025 – Lawrence, KS – The Granada – 7:00 PM
