Babe by Vincent Draper

Babe was a long time coming. I've had these feelings occupying my rib cage. Taking root and settling in. Not making enough noise to draw attention, but slowly taking up more space.
I lost a friend a while back. Someone I loved very much. We used to make music together. Life pulled us in different directions. We were hardly speaking at the time.
Something big happened, something very heavy. It fell between us and sent us skating.
We never really talked about that thing. Which means we never really apologized.
One of the hardest things I've had to grapple with is never forgiving my friend. At least never vocalizing it. My fear that he might have thought I was mad, or angry, or intentionally distant haunts me daily. I never stopped loving him, but I'll never know if understood that.

So Babe just sort of happened. I know it was my subconscious trying to reconcile my fears and my regrets and my pain. Some part of me was attempting to evict the quiet intruders.
It didn't work. And I'm better for it. I don't actually want them gone. I understand them better now, I know where they came from. They've taught me a lot about myself and I'm very grateful that they're here.

I miss my friend a lot. And I often catch myself mourning the future I thought we had coming. I like to think he'd get along with the person I've become even better than the me he knew.

He was dealt a shit hand and I don't blame him for a thing. I miss him a lot though. And I really wish I could tell him that.

The sound of Vincent Draper and The Culls is mysterious and seductive. They move from genre to genre with a certain charm and candor that is entirely their own. The Culls are dreamy, dynamic, and hypnotic. They sway from devastatingly haunting laments to thunderous psychedelic bangers, all the while sewing their rich, moody darkness into every note.