This is the sound the world makes when you stop trying to make sense of it. A drone that hangs in the air like disturbed dust in a room with no windows. A pulse that comes and goes, just enough to remind you you’re still breathing. Raúl Sánchez i Jorge and Brian O’Dwyer — two madmen with their hands in the static — pull something endless and heavy from the deep.
The sounds are stretched out, bent, burned at the edges. It’s beautiful, but not in the way flowers are beautiful. More like train tracks in the rain. Or the hum of an old fridge at 2 a.m. when the rest of the world is asleep and you’re wide awake, trying to forget you exist.
This is the ocean, and if you’re the pond frog, don’t bother trying to understand it. Just sit there and let it drown you.
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