Doomed

A lifetime of inordinate fear and sadness leaves one feeling doomed. The first one-to-one remedy I found for this ailment was writing music. Take something unbearable, painful, ugly, and make it beautiful. Smooth, melancholy, abstract art-pop. Not exactly “lo-fi” but, nonetheless, lovingly and painstakingly recorded to cassette tape. Stacked vocals. Homemade, carefully tuned internal feedback rigs. Galloping tremolo-delay guitar that shimmers and pulses along its journey. Beach Boys counterpoint voices, slammed piano chords, drifting lonesome shuffles. Melancholic disharmony finds its equilibrium in the sweet ecstatic arc of pop music.