Live the cycle as a freedom from freedom.  Invest your gut in the act you repeat (literally and figuratively).  Inhabit.  This is the point of implosion.  Nullity codified.

This album is happier than this but not by much thank God.  One could even for a death dance feel (albeit one not everyone’s invited to).

The sirens:  A chorus composed of a single voice of several tones and timbre.  The illusion of unison, and some struggle.   In the end, there is only a voice left to welcome you.  Your voice.  That’s what’s sinister.  Your voice repeated and repeatable and yet inaccessible until the end of (personal) time.

The depth of personality is what makes this album interesting.  A personality that hovers. Impossible to manufacture but capable of context manipulation, like atmospheric pressure. There is a past to this voice that may have included hibernation.  Personality in a snowglobe.  Self-replication of snow.  The homunculus is the hypothesis.  The experiment is all you build around you; to enclose the loop, to tell it’s story.

People gather in this space.  They turn on this record, they pour wine and drink from flasks.  Conversation turns to the host’s post-doctoral thesis for 4 minutes before returning to a collective rant over Forever 21.  Faint Sweat.  Everyone can connect to the beat of the song as it hovers and repeats around the line for the bathroom; the personality, the voice. Someone opens a window.  Someone screams.  However that person is ironic to the degree that no one pays attention to him anymore and so we never learn what really happened at that party.



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