Released on April 11th, Mindful Inaction is the fourth release from Copenhagen-based punk band Nexø. Known for their frenetic live shows and confrontational lyrics, the group now pivots into more experimental territory, blending their hardcore roots with krautrock repetition, stoner fuzz, and post-punk minimalism. The result is a dense, often disorienting soundscape that mirrors the disjointed, overstimulated world it critiques.
The EP opens with “Concentration,” a jittery anthem for the chronically online and perpetually distracted. The band describes the track as “the cognitive equivalent of having Restless Legs Syndrome,” reflecting the overstimulation of a 24/7 newsfeed culture. “It suffocates me, all this apathy / I need to move, I need to feel,” they scream, capturing the restlessness of those who know too much yet feel incapable of meaningful change. “The water is rising, cities are crumbling,” they note, but still, “try these 5 easy steps to improve your cardio” sits higher in the algorithm.
This theme of disempowered awareness—what Nexø call “mindful inaction”—runs through the entire record. It’s not a passive stance but a tortured one. As they explain, “Knowledge is power, but it also makes us powerless.” The phrase serves as both societal critique and personal reflection: “None of us can change the world alone, none of us can do it all, yet we’re desperate for this injustice to end.”
“Deadline” takes this further, sounding like a scream from inside a dopamine loop. The lyrics riff on Orwellian imagery, but with a nihilistic twist: “No need to ban books / when nobody reads.” The song references a moment from Simone de Beauvoir’s life—discussing Hiroshima’s aftermath over wine in the French countryside—as an example of Western detachment. “That’s our white privilege in a nutshell,” Nexø comments. It’s one of the few times a punk band draws from French existentialism and makes it feel relevant rather than performative.
“My Blood” dives inward, addressing family rupture and inherited trauma. The lyrics navigate that uneasy space between love, shame, and anger: “I hate myself / but I love you / I hate my blood.” They describe it as a process of breaking from the mold: “You can’t choose your family, but you can choose your own path.” It’s one of the more emotionally raw songs on the EP, grounded less in global collapse and more in the interior damage it leaves behind.
On “Karoshi,” the band tackles capitalist burnout head-on. Named after the Japanese term for death from overwork, the song doesn’t romanticize hustle or suffering. It’s a clear indictment: “You’re a disposable gear in their corporate machine.” Nexø draw a straight line from toxic productivity to environmental and psychological collapse. “This is the very definition of the hamster wheel and the inhuman nature of capitalism.”
The final track, “Overcorrection,” arrives both as a sonic curveball and a thematic crescendo. Initially meant to challenge their own musical instincts, it evolved into a broader metaphor for societal excess: “By going too far we reached something powerful, previously out of reach.” Lyrically, the song reckons with the individual pendulum swings between asceticism and indulgence, activism and escapism. “History repeats, but I will not,” they declare—whether as mantra or delusion is left hanging.
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Visually, Mindful Inaction is tied together by a haunting image: what appears to be melting ice is, in fact, industrial waste foam. Sourced from a heavily polluted region in India and tinted pink from chemical smog, the photo sets the tone for the release’s central metaphor. As the band puts it, “We see the ice melting, we see the deforestation, and we think it’s wrong. But in apathy we turn the blind eye and switch the channel.”
The visual choices aren’t just aesthetics—they reflect the political foundation of the project. Nexø are explicit about their anti-fascist stance and see the struggle for climate justice as inseparable from the fight against authoritarianism. “As people are waking up to the destructive nature of capitalism,” they argue, “the ruling class is realizing that more drastic measures are needed to squeeze the last resources from our natural world.”
The band is well aware of the fine line between protest and preaching. “We’re quite sure some people consider us preachy,” they admit. “But we couldn’t do this any other way.” They point to past feedback from fans relating to mental health themes and stress the importance of turning the critique inward. “We also succumb to mindful inaction sometimes, and it’s okay.”
Still, Nexø emphasize the importance of reaching beyond the screen. “Put the phone down, go outside and take a walk. Notice how people smile to each other. Notice the existential dread diminishing.”
At a time when punk risks becoming either stagnant or co-opted, Nexø push its boundaries without abandoning its urgency. For them, energy trumps orthodoxy. “We’re not here to put labels on punk,” they say, “but we believe that punk is energy above anything else.”
The full interview with Nexø follows below. It expands on the visual symbolism of Mindful Inaction, the ideological contradictions behind their lyrics, the band’s refusal to conform to punk gatekeeping, and the global scope of their message.
“Mindful Inaction” hits as both a self-critique and societal observation. Was there a specific moment or event that sparked that phrase or drove the EP’s concept?
Mindful Inaction is indeed about frustration with the current system preserving the status quo rather than seeking a sustainable future – but it’s also self-critique as you rightly point it.
No one can claim to be unaware of the fantastic destruction we impose on nature or the impact of climate change. No can claim to be ignorant of the genocide in Palestine when our feed is filled with bombed schools. The rich are getting richer right under our noses and the system is rigged against the rest. We all know these things.
Knowledge is power, but it also makes us powerless. It’s easy to perceive all the things we do to improve the world as futile in the greater picture, when the bombs keep falling and the water keeps rising. None of us can change the world alone, none of us can do it all, yet we’re desperate for this injustice to end, and no matter how much we try, our efforts never seem to be enough. It is this paradox, which became the double sided title of the EP. The constant balance between “Mindful Inaction” and “Mindful In Action”.
The fusion of krautrock, stoner, and post-punk with hardcore feels like a rebellion against punk orthodoxy itself. Is challenging the boundaries of punk part of your political stance?
There is a tendency for punk to be a closed community and sometimes also a close-minded community. Especially old punks has an idea about what punk is (and especially what it isn’t) and that kind of gatekeeping is an enemy of innovation. We challenge conservatism and stagnation whenever we consider it regressive. We’re not here to put labels on punk, but we believe that punk is energy above anything else. And if we mix that energy with a handful of other genres we might end up with something new and exciting. All the most interesting music right now comes from that opposition to narrow genre confines.
In a world saturated with doomscrolling and surface-level outrage, how do you see your music cutting through and reaching people who are used to looking away?
That’s the challenge, isn’t it? I believe we need to touch people’s emotions. You can do that by singing and playing from a very honest and vulnerable place. You can do that by emitting a type of energy in your music. But most of all you can reach people face to face, and that is why live music is more important than ever. When you hear about kids hardly ever seeing their friends outside of school and online communities, you realize the importance of getting together, sweating, screaming and feeling each other.
Really. We wholly recommend the real world. After watching politicians dismantle our future or watching corpses dragged out of dusty rubble on your screen, put the phone down, go outside and take a walk. Notice how people smile to each other. Notice the existential dread diminishing. Notice that we are all one.
5. You mention a “fascist uprising” and “climate breakdown” in the same breath. Do you see those as interconnected struggles? If so, how does that duality manifest in your lyrics or sound?
Absolutely. As people are waking up to the destructive nature of capitalism, perhaps edging their way towards “mindful in action” instead of “mindful inaction”, the ruling class is realizing that more drastic measures are needed to squeeze the last resources from our natural world. There is an end to fossil fuels, there is a green and sustainable future within our reach, but those in power have very little interest in making the transition. So they use still more aggressive and violent means to uphold their power.
Considering all of our problems as interconnected makes it easier to find a way out – but it can also result in the opposite: The system is too powerful to change and we are living the last days of humanity. This duality is probably why our music sounds so dramatic, apocalyptic even. Something is at stake.
Given the anti-fascist foundation of the band, how do you navigate the tension between protest and preaching—how do you make sure the message lands without losing the rawness?
We’re quite sure some people consider us preachy. But we couldn’t do this any other way. Having a platform to scream from is such a privilege that those few lines of lyrics have to say something.
When we wrote “The Kids are not Alright”, a song about mental health from our previous album, a lot of people came to us and thanked us for being honest about our own issues. There’s plenty to be angry about in the world, and we have good reason to blame the current economic system, but we need to point the finger at ourselves sometimes as well. If we highlight our own shortcomings it makes it easier for people to feel the message. We also succumb to mindful inaction sometimes, and it’s okay.
Is there a particular lyric or line on the EP that you feel sums up your current state of mind or mission as a band?
The lyrics to the song DEADLINE. It revolves around the constant distractions around us and the balance between activism and hedonism. This is where the phrase “mindful inaction” and it’s counterpart “mindful in action” comes from. The song ends with a reference to The Matrix, which we feel sum up most of the other lyrics: “Why settle for the red pill, when you can have both?”
What role does local context—being from Copenhagen—play in your politics and art, and how do you translate that to an international audience?
We elected to sing in English since we started the band because we believe most of the themes we care about are universal. Climate change is a global issue. The destruction of capitalism, the rise of fascism is global. Of course a kid from Indonesia will have a lot of things to worry about, that we never had to even consider growing up in an affluent country with free education and free health care, but the underlying structure that creates our problems is the same: The rampant destruction of our natural world caused by the intrinsically un-sustainable nature of capitalism.
