Grey swollen haze. Snuffs out every hint of light. Blankets on days. Have always tend to blind my sight. Never had the might. To feel like I'm above the disease. He sleeps well on knives. A comfort in the need to bleed. The dial ticks to the right. And endlessly precedes to wind. As day turns to night. The mind has no belief in time. It's composed of mist. In how it seems to lack substance. But how could love exist. In the barriers of increments. So I'm giving up on giving up. Always trying to cover a hole in my soul. That's always been full.
A nostalgic record full of ambling rhythms, vivid imagery, and cotton-soft melodies tapped out on an ever-present ’70s synth-organ hybrid. Bandcamp Album of the Day Nov 11, 2021
This Melbourne group craft irresistible bedroom pop with bouncy synths and soft vocals that sweeten serious subject matter. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 5, 2018
The regenerative beauty of the natural world is again the focus of New Mexico artist Heather Trost's shimmering home studio psychedelia. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 20, 2022