My life gets weirder every day. But now the circus has ended. Or has it just begun. The last month has been crammed with too much action to digest. It’s gona take a long time for a lot of it to sink in. It’ll probably hit me in a year. A whirlwind of events. Each one of them bookworthy in itself. How can i possibly compute any of it. Did it all really happen? Was a pussycat doll really here? Did I watch my life get played out in front of my eyes? And now where has everyone gone? Fiends and allies. Comrades. I will miss their madness. Time to lock myself in a room and ponder it all.. and how did I manage to release an album in the midst of the hurricane? The album itself was recorded in isolation, while lockdown was a very real thing and all we had on our hands was time. Time to create. Many seeds were planted back then. And now the trees are growing and coming to life. The movie also was spawned in those days. And it has grown into a monster of its own. A thought in the brain, manifested into reality. A living breathing thing. The cuckoos nest came to town.
As for the album. It has its own path. I recorded it without realising it. It was a reaction to the surreal surroundings of the time. An answer. A way of trying to make sense of what was happening. But there was no making sense of it. No words to describe it. That’s probably why there is no singing on the album. I would have needed to have invented a new language to describe anything. All I could use was music. I also don’t take claim to have written any of it, in a sense. It wrote itself. I was just lucky enough to have captured it as it floated through the ether. And now it is a record that you can hold in your hands and drop a needle on, which creates a sonic map of what was going on inside my brain back then. A wordless diary. Straight from the depths of the boneyard. It’s a weird thing.