Ribcage Crystals by Breathing in Neptune

As cold as the morgue is, I was definitely providing warmth to one of the stretchers to be placed down there. Eight months have trickled by since I engaged to start a vicious game of tug-o-war. When my opponent in that game was the same shape, weight & strength, and I looked down to see that the rope was actually barbed wire, I knew trouble boiled on the horizon. Realizing the bastard on the other end of the wire was Myself, I also knew this was about to go nowhere. Palms are hacked into like going wrist deep into a bowl of Piranhas. Gauze wrapped up so bloody bright red that it would catch the attention of a Bull kilometres away. Trying to grasp the slightest form of normalcy caused a cascade of unspeakable events. Obliterated by my own dismal menu of an endless alcoholic waterfall.

I began recording this last July and planned to have it finished by the end of the Summer of 2022. Whether it be the blistering radiation from the Sphere in the Sky, the initial separation in June, or my quest to remain in the trenches of inebriation, everything blurred & was torched. The blackouts were common. One night of chemical release would end up costing me the next 30 days of frantically trying to swim at least somewhere near a shore, quite literally. A scorcher of an August day, I awoke on the sidelines of a river flowing through a mountain, far, far from home, animals singing & empty cans clinging on the pebbles like wind chimes before a brief storm. The blinding blackness of a frostbitten November night threw me facedown in handcuffs in a dead jail-cell awaiting the doom of facing withdrawal the next morning. I consistently found myself trapped in those four walls. This is not who I am. Repeat. Many, many times. Winter showed up and She placed Her hands in mine, saying, “You either fix what is killing you, or you come with me when I leave.” I ignored her for a few weeks, a grave mistake. Awakening from a near 48 hour medically induced Coma to the clang & clatter of the chains on my wrists & sandpaper-like straps of a thinly layered hospital bed is something I wouldn’t wish upon my worst of enemies. It took me weeks to ultimately recover from this self-sabotaging & bruise filled adventure to the underground. I’m grateful to have survived that and for everyone who reached out during a time where future vision was limited. From blindness to a dim, eerie apocalyptic state - One would never know that the dark can actually glow. It’s vibrant.. And it’s horrific. And it’s OVER.

From those experiences I was able to put together 17 songs, out of a previous 28/30, scrapped due to the chaos. Some of these songs I have no clue how I was able to record due to the stewing of ethanol fuelled destruction. The others were done with a completely clear & healthy mindset (current game plan). They all sort of blend together like finding a life raft the moment you see that flood pouring in. It is a mix up of previous sounds, this time with more percussion and bathed in darker undertones. Some folk/alternative/new-age melancholy tattooed with flamenco, ambience, and piano flourishing melodies.
Forcing myself to complete this is probably what kept me alive.
Enjoy.

Not looking down. Not looking up. I’m looking straight ahead. Life has returned back to my previous state of rewarding outcomes & overall healthiness. Thanks for listening. Here’s to the next. Will be posting links on the release date!"

Melancholic folk/ambient medication to ease daily stressors into a beneficial sedative experience.

All Instruments - Jordan Jongema

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