Melancholia

Short, dusty piano loops repeat until they begin to fray at the edges, turning a series of private bedroom recordings into a slow-motion study of loss. After years of coaxing massive, tragic beauty out of massive tape reels, this record perfected a much quieter kind of grief. You are placed inside a room where the air has not moved in decades, listening to fragile melodies dissolve into hiss and static. Each brief track feels like a photograph left in the sun, fading right before your eyes. It proved that the smallest, most damaged fragments could hold the heaviest weight.

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