The bottoms of my feet tickle (prickle) with the weight of the wind
Expansion over entropy, I hear you scratch your skin
Sentry installation day creeps up with baited breath
Let me loose from standby, let me make a mess
This scene makes piss-poor sense
I don’t even think the eyes can say that
Unless it’s in a language I never learned
Towers crumble quickly when transferred to a kind hand
May the corn syrup cease its churn
The top of your face wrinkles
Making smell look like time
I don’t eat pickled fruits, a shortcoming of mine
Your bravery is shedding like two scales falling off
I would make them into glasses, but I wouldn’t see enough
What can you tell me of acting with deft and certain movements?
I stand to gain a lot by shutting up
We are sensitive to patterns, is that where meaning comes from?
Is value just survival run amok?
Origin isn’t essence, what came to be is not what is.
I am swayed by feeble sentiment, you know this, you know this
And I think it’s for the best that we can’t hold it all in our heads
I think our blinders, in this case, make us blessed
A moody, enveloping record from Zane Coppard, where dense and intricately crafted atmospheres cradle yearning vocals. Bandcamp New & Notable Aug 1, 2021
Martin John Henry (De Rosa) and Robert Dallas Gray (Life Without Buildings) make dreamy, improvised, folk-inflected music together. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 12, 2022
Scottish artist swaddles ’70s krautrock grooves in guitar-based ambient, resulting in drone music that feels strangely featherlight. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 23, 2022