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︎ ︎TRANSMÍSION: ENRTY PERMITTED. +︎ ︎ ︎TRACE AT THE THRESHOLD, FOLLOW ︎ ︎THE ROCK IN NOISES, 02:71.︎ ︎ ︎

(AIN’T FAME AND GRANDEUR..) Ye! But—the peculiar alchemy of standing in a dim room while the six strings, battered pedals, and unreasonable amounts of the volume transform all lonesome into something of almost luminous. If you heark us through the walls, don’t ask what dat masterpiece we’re playing, just sit and behave like rock. ⟳ 𝖸𝖠 𝖲𝖧𝖴𝖣 𝖪𝖭𝖮! STAY AWHILE, LET THE NOISE SWALLOW US WHOLE. + ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎FUGEONZÍ ON-HAIL! ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ 🎬 𝗦𝗨𝗕𝗦-𝗙𝗢𝗥-𝗦𝗨𝗕𝗦. ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ FŪZZED SÍGNAL. (+) NOISE VERNAÇULAR: Hit The Call-For-You! Mutual Subscriptions, (FIVE TO EIGHT.) KINDLY ENGAGE: PRIMARY ACC.︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎DIFFUSE THE STATIC, ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎BLUR THE AFTERIMAGE ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎TOGETHA. ↓ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ AMPHETAMINE REVERI, ENNUI. CHILDREN OF FUZZWAVE. + FOUR-HALF AWAKE. Herefore, all the set begins without ceremony: a fractured riff, a kick drum, then everything collapses into volume. We let the guitars corrode, let the vocals recede—let each of track becomes its own little catastrophe. Call It Showgaze! Call It Also Noise-Pop! Here we holler say out-loud, preferably in-between the fugue state, the feedback, and strange electricity humming beneath the otherwise ordinary night. Let the guitars and drum corrode, let the vocals recede, let each track becomin’ its own little catastrophe. Dont Ya Realize? / VOCALS STAY BURIED. BASS RATTLES THE FLOORBOARDS. CYMBALS CUT THROUGH WHATEVER REMAINS. / ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎NOCTILUCENT ÖN RIOT. ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎ ︎+ ... ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎ ︎︎ ︎︎︎︎𝖢‌𝗁𝖺𝗌𝗆 𝖶𝖾 𝖲𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗇, ︎𝖧𝖺𝗂𝗅 𝖳𝗈 𝖲𝗁𝗈𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾. “Phantasmal Freqúency.” These melody has arrive after dusk, the night becomes ours. Four figures beneath sodium lights, guitars slung low, and amplifiers breathing like great dormant machinery. Hath Trade Polished? Compositions onto something further fugitive: SMEARED, HARMONICS, MERCURIAL RIFFS, VOCALS! Submerged beneath an ocean of reverb. Every chords is allowed unto blur at the edges. There is an aestheticism in sonic imperfection, like the hiss before the first chord, tremulous feedback between verses, and-so moment a melody collapses into pure texture. We..? Chase goat moment relentlessly, vaguely.

(AIN’T FAME AND GRANDEUR..) Ye! But—the peculiar alchemy of standing in a dim room while the six strings, battered pedals, and unreasonable amounts of the volume transform all lonesome into something of almost luminous. If you heark us through the walls, don’t ask what dat masterpiece we’re playing, just sit and behave like rock. ⟳ 𝖸𝖠 𝖲𝖧𝖴𝖣 𝖪𝖭𝖮! STAY AWHILE, LET THE NOISE SWALLOW US WHOLE. + ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ