Last updated: 2 days ago
Established in the Selbyverse in a haze of blue dream and liquid confidence, to define the music and message of Most Ghosts would be to define the infinite wisdom and distance of space and time.
The relationship between genres, cultures, past and future are a blur of colour and light. Constantly woven together like the fabric of the universe itself.
By definition there are no lines in which to colour between, only perceptions of lines in which we would expect to see bursts of activity. Exploding shapes and sounds, movements and patterns emerge from the skeletal forms of regular expectation. Sparkling wonder and constellation lace sprinkled effortlessly into cosmic wool, knitted into warm fuzzy jazz jumpers. With undergarments made of psychedelic stardust and Egyptian cotton.
The heart bleeds nebula doom and produces synthwave energetic bursts that expand and contract like the gravitational pull of the moon interacting with the earths tides. The pitter patter of thermal boots always whispers “your guy is close by”, whilst time and space collapses around you, until you are left alone on top of a hill, staring into the eyes of a solitary horse.
Enter with your shiny boots of leather, exit with wind of the big old eagle. Escape your Mind Prison.
The relationship between genres, cultures, past and future are a blur of colour and light. Constantly woven together like the fabric of the universe itself.
By definition there are no lines in which to colour between, only perceptions of lines in which we would expect to see bursts of activity. Exploding shapes and sounds, movements and patterns emerge from the skeletal forms of regular expectation. Sparkling wonder and constellation lace sprinkled effortlessly into cosmic wool, knitted into warm fuzzy jazz jumpers. With undergarments made of psychedelic stardust and Egyptian cotton.
The heart bleeds nebula doom and produces synthwave energetic bursts that expand and contract like the gravitational pull of the moon interacting with the earths tides. The pitter patter of thermal boots always whispers “your guy is close by”, whilst time and space collapses around you, until you are left alone on top of a hill, staring into the eyes of a solitary horse.
Enter with your shiny boots of leather, exit with wind of the big old eagle. Escape your Mind Prison.
Monthly Listeners
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