New album · out now
It All Burns Down Someday
Six songs that follow an arc from connection through exhaustion to hard-won acceptance.
New album · out now
Six songs that follow an arc from connection through exhaustion to hard-won acceptance.
Listen up
It All Burns Down Someday is out everywhere. CD, cassette, and digital download on Bandcamp, digital purchase on Subvert, and streaming on Spotify, Apple Music, Amazon Music, and YouTube.
Credits
Graham Bremner — vocals, guitars, bass
Epaminondas Trimis — drums, percussion
Seth Ahnert — keyboards on three tracks
All songs written by Graham Bremner. Mixed and mastered by Michael Springer.
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The vision
It All Burns Down Someday is about accepting impermanence and choosing to live fully within that reality — even when you're exhausted, isolated, and questioning everything. It's not a nihilistic statement; it's a liberating one. Everything ends, everything changes, so what do we do with the time we have?
It explores the weight of being the person everyone depends on, the isolation of invisible burdens, and the struggle to stay present in a world that demands everything. These songs wrestle with the realities of life — family, work, the gap between who you want to be and the energy you have left — but they also recognize that those struggles are universal and temporary. Asking for help isn't weakness, and moving forward doesn't require having it all figured out.
Press
There is a punk-inspired attitude throughout, paired with nuanced chord voicing and a wider variety of sounds. The approach tips its hat to seminal artists like Dinosaur Jr. and The Weakerthans, while keeping the arrangements live, fun, and spontaneous. … Across it all burns down someday, 72 Rats balance post-punk restraint with the looseness of indie rock, capturing performances that feel direct and deliberately unpolished.— The Bandcamp Diaries
When pop music doesn't have the balls you want as the soundtrack to your day and rock music feels a bit too impenetrable or imposing, you need something with a foot in each camp. You need something like the new EP (mini-album?) from 72 Rats.— Dancing About Architecture
This new record feels immediate and adventurous at once, balancing driving rock energy against atmospheric passages and arrangements that reward repeat listens. The reference points are easy to hear, with the nervy intelligence, the jangling melancholy and the shadowed tension of legendary acts all echoing through the material. Still, 72 Rats never sound like a tribute act. The punk-inspired attitude is theirs, as is the live, spontaneous feel that keeps the performances sounding like people in a room rather than files in a computer.— JamSphere
What ties these songs together is the straightforward candor. Bremner tends to state his ideas plainly rather than burying them in elaborate imagery, and the instrumentation hits the listener head-on instead of hiding beneath glossy production. Distorted guitars shift between different levels of density and rhythmic emphasis, nuanced chord voicings widen the palette, and the whole record balances post-punk restraint with the looseness of indie rock. It is not a pretentious album. It reaches instead for the smaller, humbler realization that nobody really has the answers to life’s great questions, and that admitting so can be a relief.— JamSphere
From the journal
Oct 11, 2026
On every streaming service now, plus the first reviews and a video for Hidden made with my 30-year-old cassette deck.
Read on SubstackOct 2, 2026 · Release day
The time has come, the work is done — now it's time to see what the world thinks of it. Out today on Bandcamp and Subvert; streaming everywhere else Oct 9.
Read on SubstackAug 30, 2026
Three songs mixed and mastered, a fourth just sent off — plus what's been in my ears lately.
Read on SubstackAug 10, 2026
Rats on the move — the latest from the studio.
Read on SubstackJun 8, 2026
Two vintage Italian guitars, both restored, both on the record.
Read on SubstackFirst post
On knowing when to stop revising and finish what you started.
Read on SubstackSubscribe on Substack to get the next post in your inbox.
The song flow
Opens with intimate connection — friends who can talk about anything, who hold space for each other. The foundation: these moments matter because they're temporary.

A call to action: get out and engage with the actual world. Physical presence, real experiences, meeting people different from you. Time is passing whether you act or not — so act.
The reality check. After the call to engage comes the admission: I'm depleted. Feeling inadequate while knowing you're fortunate; envying people who seem to have it together while suspecting it's an illusion.

The isolation of invisible heroism — being the one who fixes everything but feels completely unseen. Sometimes you can't save everyone. Sometimes you have to let go.

The turning point. A direct plea for help and an acknowledgment that the darkness is internal and temporary, even when it doesn't feel that way. A glimpse of light.
Not a triumphant ending, but an honest one. Exhausted acceptance that standing still isn't an option. You don't have all the answers — you're moving forward anyway. Day by day. It's enough.
