Reaper, the 2017 debut from nothing,nowhere., was a sterling emo-rap hybrid in a year when the term became a cultural flashpoint. Vermont native Joe Mulherin’s project stood apart from the crowd through its relative understatement and sense of craft. Unlike the litany of provocateurs applying slapdash Warped Tour aesthetics to Chief Keef flows, the 25-year-old caught the attention of both Dashboard Confessional’s Chris Carrabba and The New York Times off of a fluid blend of arpeggiated guitar curlicues ripped from emo forebears like Mineral and American Football, cloud rap production in the vein of Yung Lean, and a vocal style that flitted between the two with grace and dexterity.On, ruiner, Mulherin adds a potentially welcoming bit of self-awareness but is hamstrung throughout by its depressive cousin, self-consciousness. Much of the lyrical content feels similar to that of Reaper on its face: heartbreak, depression, isolation, the emo works. But where that album often wallowed in those topics, ruiner finds Mulherin genuinely reflecting on them. “I’m ******g sick of writing all these sad songs,” he spits on the jaunty, autumnal title track, before crooning a chorus that reads like a dirtbag version of “Ms. Jackson”: “Oh no/What’s your momma gonna say when I tell her that I broke your heart.” It’s a far cry from “Clarity in Kerosene”’s visceral “I hope you choke in your sleep,” but it’s no less effective, and much less troubling. However, for too much of the album, ruiner falls short of the conceptual task set out by that title track. Only six months after Reaper, Mulherin is losing his confidence.It’s most noticeable in the production. Unlike Reaper’s gothic spaciousness, the beat-making on ruiner—handled again by Mulherin and Soundcloud mainstay Jay Vee—foregrounds rhythm over melody, submerging Mulherin’s nimble guitar work under Three 6 Mafia for Dummies drum loops. When the guitar is central, such as on the loping, nostalgic “better,” it feels confined to this muted tone that dampens its emotional effect. The most frustrating result is “rejecter,” in which Mulherin’s self-lacerating emoting is sabotaged by amateurish sub-bass production that makes it sound like Drake’s “Doing It Wrong” as performed by the noir-pop of the Neighbourhood.