*In process of stocking* "This music does not create a song for our ears. It is a ‘state’, such as moonlight poured over the fields.” Leonard Huizinga
This is not a crafted record. The quality is often very poor and the resolution is seldom realised. The melodic lines drift into sentimentality and the production lacks focus and rigour. It is, however, the authentic sound of moonlight suicides, Christmas midnights and a representation of a certain kind of recovered memory that ruins your sleep.
I was in the midst of upheaval and I was trying to realise something. Whatever the ‘something’ was refused to play, and so something else has been realised instead. Something I had little control over. But this record seems to speak more truly to my private clear-night-sky self than any contrived contribution I may otherwise have forced upon you here. Don’t wake the children. Don’t trust the confession. We may still see snow.