Voidfaller’s review of the albumNurture

There is something almost impossibly beautiful about the idea of nature being romanticised through the eyes of a sad computer. Nurture is, to me, exactly that: a botanica dreamscape, a collection of organic sounds coated in digital textures, and perhaps the most acoustic EDM album I've ever heard. I first listened to Nurture when it released in April 2021. The world was still in lockdown, and my grandmother had passed away shortly before its release. I remember that period of my life vividly, and Nurture became a source of comfort through it all. It was a helping hand, a friend, and a hopeful outlook on a world that felt rather bleak at the time. Just as the album marked an incredible shift in Porter's artistic identity, it marked an equally significant shift in my own life. Looking back, I associate Nurture with the end of my teenage years. It feels like a time capsule of a version of myself that I have since grown beyond, yet somehow, I find myself relating to its lyrics more than ever. Not because I am in the same place I was back then, but because I have come to understand them differently. The album's message of reconnecting with yourself, learning to love yourself, and finding a reason to keep going has only become more meaningful with time. What I love most about Nurture is that it doesn't seem to demand happiness from you. Instead, it invites you to find happiness while accepting that negativity will always be part of being alive. Its optimism never feels like a denial of suffering. Rather, it feels like the result of having experienced it and choosing to keep going anyway. For such a personal album, its sincerity is perhaps its greatest strength. Musically, Nurture is a remarkable balancing act. The piano melodies, acoustic textures, and natural sounds feel almost tangible, yet they are wrapped in a distinctly digital atmosphere. Porter's processed vocals fit perfectly into this world, adding to the feeling of an imperfect, artificial being attempting to express something deeply human. There is an inherent contradiction in the sound: it feels simultaneously synthetic and organic, distant and intimate, melancholic and euphoric. Somehow, all these qualities coexist without undermining one another. And then there are the songs themselves. The ballads are sweet and tender, while the bangers still hit incredibly hard. The album never sacrifices its electronic roots to become a collection of conventional singer-songwriter tracks, nor does it hide behind production to avoid its emotional vulnerability. It manages to be both an intimate confession and an exhilarating electronic record. Perhaps the most beautiful thing about Nurture is how its meaning can change alongside you. Right now, I find myself particularly drawn to the line about somebody, somewhere, finding the warmth of summer in the songs you write. It makes me think about creativity as something that can reach beyond its creator, offering comfort to someone you may never meet. Maybe that is a gift I didn't recognise when I first heard the album. Maybe that is what it means to try to feel alive. I still consider Nurture one of my five favourite albums of all time. Not because I think it is necessarily flawless, but because it has remained a constant throughout years of personal change. It helped me through a difficult period, accompanied me through the end of my teenage years, and continues to offer new perspectives as I grow older. Some albums capture a moment in your life. Others grow with you, becoming something different as you become someone different. Nurture is the latter. And I don't think I'll ever stop coming back to it.