"Ash Wednesday" is my liturgy of a breakdown, a project where I document systemic decay by fusing industrial, geological, and commercial imagery. I frame interpersonal conflict as an inevitable, cosmic cycle rather than a random event, contrasting the heavy, sacred gravity of the Ash Wednesday prayer—"Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return"—against the pathetic, mundane degradation of a discount bin cake. By blending sharp, ballistic language with raw themes of existential exhaustion, I have meticulously mapped out an inevitable collapse. This composition serves as the definitive structural anchor for my two-song EP, Angels Watch Like Television, effectively elevating what began as a personal narrative into a broader, high-stakes reflection on the nature of internal erosion and the cycle of returning to dust.more

"Phantom Summer" is a melancholic meditation on the erosion of authenticity and the isolation inherent in digital existence. I explore how we trade genuine connection for performative artifice, using the imagery of a "beautiful graveyard of billboard estates" to depict a landscape where our shared reality has been commodified and hollowed out. The track serves as an autopsy of a relationship or a shared experience that has been consumed by the "synthetic heat" of digital validation, leaving us as "two matching ghosts in a palace of chrome." Ultimately, the song captures the feeling of living in a "stuck" state—a long, slow descent from the pedestal—where we are constantly performing for an audience that isn't really there, waiting for a winter that will never come.more

"Gold" functions as a technical audit of human connection, where I treat interpersonal dynamics through the lens of systems engineering. In this piece, I explore the absurdity of attempting to standardize, "correct," and calibrate human emotions—treating them as data sets—which inevitably generates "drift error" within the relationship. By maintaining a clinical, "gold standard" approach, I expose the paradox of striving for perfect synchronization in a connection that is fundamentally unstable and unmeasurable. Ultimately, the track captures the futility of this process: even when I stop measuring the "system," the resonance of those attempts persists, as I realize I was never calibrating the other person, but rather the absence they left behind. more