Mutual Exteriority Of Abjects

We live in a world where everything is already named. The moment something appears, it is seized by language, categorized, and placed into a system of meaning. A cup, a tree, a cat—none of these exist independently of our perception. But what were they before we labeled them? What is a tree before it is recognized as one? What is a sound before it is called “music”?

This album is not about meaning—it’s about the disintegration of meaning. It does not ask “what is this?”, but rather, “what might it be, beyond the reach of recognition?”

Mutual Exteriority of Abject refers to a condition where the rejected, the fragmented, and the unclassifiable coexist—not in harmony, but in distant proximity. These elements are not assimilated into any whole; they remain external to each other, yet suspended in the same space—touching, but never merging. It is a space where the abject does not scream for inclusion, but rather exists as a quiet rupture, a persistent echo of what resists naming.

My sound practice grows from this awareness. I don't build music in the traditional sense—I deconstruct and reconfigure. I might use a cat's meow as a central sonic figure, or take a fully composed segment and dismantle it into raw materials, then reassemble it into something that forgets its origin. What others may hear as a lack of low-end or chaotic arrangement is, to me, an intentional refusal—a rejection of comfort, of polish, of expected structure.

There are no clear resolutions in these tracks. No emotional arcs. No linear progression. What you will find are unstable textures, broken rhythmic logic, and fractured spatial gestures. It’s not meant to be understood. It’s not meant to be pleasing. It is meant to exist, in its own uneasy logic—resisting the systems that would define it.

And yet—I live in meaning.
I still make music within language. I still wander between systems.
This is my contradiction. This is my struggle.