TheMoonHangs
These recordings feel particularly treasured, as if worn having been adored for so long and revisited many times. Gloriously busy, a tangle of instrumentation not unlike a timid animal, with the reassuring hiss of tape at their back like the soft crackle of settling snow. As I listen, it casts my whole world flickering between the aged comfort of sepia and the vibrant glow of blown-out technicolour.
A love language borne of whirrs, clicks and hisses.