Incidental Contact
Thirteen tracks of hushed, close-miked folk. A masterclass in physical proximity, where every breath and string squeak feels like a shared secret.
Thirteen tracks of hushed, close-miked folk. A masterclass in physical proximity, where every breath and string squeak feels like a shared secret.
It's like a therapy session where the therapist just plays beautiful, sad guitar for forty minutes.
A quiet, unflinching look at the self through a lens of extreme tenderness and hushed melancholy.
The writing leans a touch further into self examination than the rest of the catalogue.
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