When Domenic “Nicky” Palermo signs onto Zoom from a stopover at Connecticut’s Mohegan Sun casino and hotel, his fatigue is quickly audible. The Nothing frontman is taking a break in between unloading excess merch from the band’s recent tour run while simultaneously trying to shepherd the largest edition yet of Slide Away, the steadily rising festival he accidentally — and somewhat improbably — turned into one of underground rock’s most vital annual gatherings.
“I dare say I bit off a little bit more than I can chew,” the bearded Palermo says with a laugh.
That may be true on paper. This year’s Slide Away sprawls across six shows in three cities — Brooklyn Paramount on Friday and Saturday (May 15-16), Chicago’s Aragon Ballroom on May 22-23 and Los Angeles’ Hollywood Palladium on May 29-30 — with roughly 20,000 tickets sold in total. Nothing will perform at all three stops in support of its deeply personal new album, A Short History of Decay, released in February. But the true draw is Palermo’s increasingly uncanny ability to coax beloved, elusive alternative bands back onto the stage — most notably this year’s reunions from Hum and Chapterhouse.
For Palermo, the whole thing started as a correction to something he felt was missing far more than from any business instinct. “Everything I’ve done my whole life has stemmed from a DIY place,” he says. “When Nothing started playing, we struggled with not having a true identity and not having a home. So for me, it was like, okay, there’s all these bands touching the same live wire right now — dream pop, ambient music, shoegaze, whatever you want to call it — but there wasn’t really a festival where you could find all of that under one roof.” He pauses before adding, “I don’t even really like saying shoegaze anymore. The term’s gotten almost embarrassing.”
Still, Slide Away has become shorthand for a broader phenomenon: audiences of varied youth both discovering and revitalizing a constellation of underground guitar music once considered too niche, introverted or forgotten to sustain large crowds. TikTok clips and algorithmic playlists may help lead kids toward Hum, Failure, Swervedriver or Lovesliescrushing, but Slide Away gives that discovery physical form — a real-world counterpoint to increasingly homogenized corporate festival culture.
Palermo calls it an “anti-festival festival. We know what sucks,” he says, referencing Nothing’s decade-plus existence on the touring circuit. “Not having merch rates is one thing we demand. We just want people to have a good experience. I’ve always kind of liked making people happy in the sense of putting on a show.”
The lineup reflects that philosophy. Returning heroes Hum and Chapterhouse share bills with younger artists like She’s Green, Warmachine, Crate, Mexico’s Mint Field, Brazil’s Terraplana and Total Wife, while well-traveled peers such as Ovlov help bridge the generational divide. Palermo is intentional about those combinations, carefully curating each night rather than merely stacking names. “I try to play off the headliner and lean the undercard in a direction that makes sense,” he explains. “There’s so many younger bands I’m excited about getting on these stages.”
But Slide Away’s reputation has largely been built on the acts Palermo somehow convinces to return. The first year, he tracked down Scott Cortez of Lovesliescrushing and Astrobrite via Bandcamp messages. Last year brought Whirr out of a decade-long hiatus alongside Pains of Being Pure at Heart. This year’s crown jewels are Hum and Chapterhouse — both bands Palermo spent years pursuing through what he jokingly describes as “old head Hotmail accounts.”
“When I see an AOL or Hotmail address, I’m like, alright, this conversation’s gonna be tough,” he says, laughing. “I’m just some dude coming out of the blue.”
Hum’s inclusion carries particular emotional weight. After breaking a 17-year touring hiatus in 2015, the Illinois band has not played since the death of drummer Bryan St. Pere in 2021 and has remained largely silent publicly in the years since. Its unexpected 2020 comeback album, Inlet, arrived during the early pandemic period and transformed from surprise release into something closer to canon — a towering, late-career statement many fans now consider the band’s best work.
Palermo says guitarist/vocalist Matt Talbott initially wasn’t convinced people cared. “Matt was very concerned that people didn’t care about Inlet at all,” Palermo recalls. “And I had to tell him, no, they absolutely do. People are dying to hear these songs.” Hum will again feature Shiner drummer Jason Gerken behind the kit, following his previous appearances with the band prior to St. Pere’s death.
Then there’s Reading, England’s, Chapterhouse, whose shimmering 1991 album Whirlpool became foundational text for generations of atmospheric guitar bands despite the group spending decades largely absent from American stages. “No Chapterhouse, no Nothing,” Palermo says bluntly. “Those records are incredibly important to me. I always loved the Manchester and breakbeat side of that scene. Chapterhouse made such cool music that nobody else was really making.”
Their inclusion also underscores the broader timing of Slide Away’s rise. Palermo remembers seeing many of these same bands attempt reunions in the 2000s to sparse crowds and indifference. “People weren’t there yet,” he says. “This new generation kind of pushed it forward again.”
That generational shift may be the festival’s most fascinating dimension. What once felt like insular cult music has become newly communal. Palermo recalls looking out during Lovesliescrushing’s Philadelphia set at the first Slide Away and seeing hundreds of younger fans completely locked in. “Nobody had their phones out,” he says. “Everyone was just present. That was one of those moments where I stopped and thought, okay, this is actually something special.”
At the same time, Palermo remains wary of over-defining the festival he created. “It gets labeled as a shoegaze fest because that’s easy for people to digest,” he says. “But it’s clearly not just that.” That openness extends to his ambitions for future editions. Though he’s been planning Slide Away 2027 for months already, he’s reluctant to name specific targets — even if he admits his dream bookings stretch beyond strict genre confines. At one point, he enthusiastically endorses SPIN’s idea of reuniting the Sundays, who haven’t performed live since 1997.
“If you have an imagination, you can kind of see where I’m going with some of this stuff,” he says. It’s crazy to think about. Now I’m competing with giant festivals, but we’re building something every year. People trust it now.”