A descent in slow motion. The beat is ancient — slow as stone, a heart forged in magma, pulsing beneath time.
Every measure folds like sediment, each sound a trace fossil of pressure and patience.
This is a music of descent, not falling, but remembering how to sink.
Weight becomes rhythm. Silence becomes shape.

Vaguely Clinky is a study in minimal, percussive textures — digital chimes, metallic taps, and fractured pulses layered in intentional, airy intervals. Each sound is a piece of tuned debris, carefully positioned to build a delicate architecture of rhythm and space. Both mechanical and playful, it invites close listening to the negative space between collisions.

Eating a TV Evangelist dismembers the smooth certainties of broadcast spectacle.
Layers of distorted speech, static, and corrupted rhythm grind against one another in a caustic ritual of deconversion.
This is transmission-as-autopsy — a noisy, irreverent audio collage that chews up spiritual commerce and spits out static. Feels like a broadcast meltdown — preacher’s cadence shredded by static and digital corrosion.

Greyhound Indiana is a slow-motion road movie for the ears.
Long, textural drones blur like headlights on wet pavement, while distant harmonics evoke the melancholy of transit.
It’s a study in movement and memory — an endless ride through small towns seen from the cracked window of a midnight bus.

Rah Um is an electronic incantation — layered pulses and fragmented vocal textures swirl in a slow, ritualistic build.
Evoking the cadence of a half-remembered chant, it blurs the line between synthetic and human breath.
This is sound as ceremony, a looping prayer to signal and noise.