The brief but haunting Nothing Important is the ultimate entrypoint into Richard Dawson’s world of operatic, empathetic tragedies about the random madness and cruelty of life. Bookended by two instrumentals made up of razor sharp, stuttering playing on a once-broken amplified acoustic guitar, the two songs that make up the meat of the record are grim and glorious. The title track is a birth-to-death tale of a man surrounded by the useless trophies and nicknacks that no longer jog meaningful memories. When other instrumentation (stomps, claps, drones, drums) finally kicks in three minutes into “The Vile Stuff,” an Edward Gorey-esque story of a class field trip riddled with drunken violence, debauchery, and bodily fluids spilling all over the place, the effect is like getting hit with a medicine ball. It’s as grimy as the darkest death metal and the stormiest folk horror and it’s an incredible place to lurk when the time is right.