
Dusty, tape-hiss folk recorded with toy instruments and operatic grace. A haunting meditation on mortality that feels like a rediscovered attic recording.
It's like finding a box of haunted music boxes in a dusty attic and realizing they're all playing the same sad song.
A fragile, haunted meditation on mortality that feels both ancient and deeply personal.
The writing leans far further into death mortality than the rest of the catalogue.
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