This cassette is a collection of recordings made over the span of 5 or so years, scraps of thoughts and emotions brought back into light. It’s a soundtrack for finding personal notes scribbled in the margins of school books: snapshots of a particular mental place and time. Much of the sound here is low rumbles, a drift of electronics and samples pushed just to the border of being recognizable. There is something that could be the whistle of a train captured and looped or maybe the drone of a plane overhead, held in stasis at a single point in the sky. These are the points in time our brain deletes, the diary entries we don’t remember making and force us to swallow hard at their jejune content as we flip through them. The slow leak of the past pushes through the imperfectly laid wallpaper of our now, and temporarily robs it of its agency. Unmoored from the island of the present moment, we trail fingers through the debris of years that at a touch have only a passing familiarity. This is music for the moment you don’t recognize yourself in a photograph; the low hum of confusion at seeing yourself with an expression your face has forgotten how to make.
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