Of Which One Knows

30,00

only 3 left

about the record

"I see sound in smells, maps, and mischievously put random words in poems, as they provoke pivotal subconscious algorithms in me. These tracks are the portrayal of those feelings.

Every blissful moment of the divine process of music-making, that goes back to a sacred process of a child at play - a burning response to the intensity of the neigh to invisible blueness of half-formed ice.

The span of time for this music reminds me of my Dad’s studio. Infinite thick wooden drawers that crackle clack, bounce clatter, peal, rattle the same way as before. There is no decay crumbling, perishing or rot in the objects inside. Clippers, liner pens, tracing paper, cutters for grown-ups, unused razors and their tiny spare blade packs, tapes, compasses, leather, and metal roll meters are all intact. Random snapshots, outdated student ids and driving licenses in leather sliders, letters, postmarks, piled up separately in intense small section drawers. All’s in perfect order. All intact."

- Natalie Beridze

  1. 1 - Ash Wednesday 4:06
  2. 2 - Sio 6:08
  3. 3 - X 2:58
  4. 4 - Drift 5:15
  5. 5 - Door Part II 3:01
  6. 6 - Freddy's Cut 5:55
  7. 7 - Door Part I 2:15
  8. 8 - Forensic Of The Thread 6:40
  9. 9 - Sadness 2:03

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Of Which One Knows

30,00

only 3 left

  1. 1 - Ash Wednesday 4:06
  2. 2 - Sio 6:08
  3. 3 - X 2:58
  4. 4 - Drift 5:15
  5. 5 - Door Part II 3:01
  6. 6 - Freddy's Cut 5:55
  7. 7 - Door Part I 2:15
  8. 8 - Forensic Of The Thread 6:40
  9. 9 - Sadness 2:03

Embed

Copy and paste this code to your site to embed.

about the record

"I see sound in smells, maps, and mischievously put random words in poems, as they provoke pivotal subconscious algorithms in me. These tracks are the portrayal of those feelings.

Every blissful moment of the divine process of music-making, that goes back to a sacred process of a child at play - a burning response to the intensity of the neigh to invisible blueness of half-formed ice.

The span of time for this music reminds me of my Dad’s studio. Infinite thick wooden drawers that crackle clack, bounce clatter, peal, rattle the same way as before. There is no decay crumbling, perishing or rot in the objects inside. Clippers, liner pens, tracing paper, cutters for grown-ups, unused razors and their tiny spare blade packs, tapes, compasses, leather, and metal roll meters are all intact. Random snapshots, outdated student ids and driving licenses in leather sliders, letters, postmarks, piled up separately in intense small section drawers. All’s in perfect order. All intact."

- Natalie Beridze

fits in the mood