Ken Wohlrob
Simulacrum
A song can be a slippery thing.
It can have no structure while still being bound to consistency.
It can be sinister, but also beautiful.
It can allow you space to think, moving into the background, but it can still enforce its presence.
It can feel immovable, while it can feel as if it's slithering away, unable to be held.
It's components can be distinct, while it's layers can melt into one another.
It can sound familiar, yet unlike anything you've ever heard.
It can have roots, but be unmoored from the past.
It can borrow, cheat, and steal, while being pure and unique.
It is a sum of its parts, but the parts don't define it.
It can engage the brain, but defy understanding.
It can be one thing one minute, another thing the next
But it should infect you...
Otherwise, what's the friggin' point?
There are guitars. They are synthesizers. They are effects. Slivers of old songs and styles that have been lurking in my brain, sitting in the unconscious, waiting to be deployed. Some influences overt, others indistinguishable. This was where my brain was at during the moments the song was recorded. It was not planned. Nor written. It was cobbled together from rapid impulses and dredged old thoughts.
Hope you dig it.
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