Nixon

Nixon sounds like the sonic equivalent of a well-worn wool sweater. It is music that feels intentionally small, favoring the intimacy of a bedroom recording over the polish of a studio. Roger Gunnarsson crafts melodies that are deceptively simple, often built around the steady, humble pulse of a vintage drum machine and the gentle strum of an acoustic guitar. There is a persistent sense of winter in the arrangements, a quiet stillness that suggests the music was made while watching snow fall outside a window.

What makes Nixon distinctive is the specific intersection of Swedish pop sensibility and the DIY ethos of the international twee scene. While many of his contemporaries leaned into sugary sweetness, Gunnarsson’s work as Nixon often carries a heavy undercurrent of adult melancholy. The use of cheap electronic textures alongside organic instruments creates a fragile, brittle beauty that feels both nostalgic and deeply personal, as if you are listening to someone read their diary over a Casio preset.

To understand the Nixon sound, start with the album Only Ugly People Smoke. It perfectly captures the project's ability to turn minor-key sadness into something comforting and melodic. From there, the November 1985 album offers a more synth-focused but equally poignant look at memory and the passage of time, cementing Nixon as a cornerstone of the early 2000s indie pop underground.