Dug this lockdown gloomfezt up when scouring memory cards. Da feztin pozz channelling sum late anus de pelicanrage / Harmonies p+r here. Da only vaguely happy bit haff Cantique d’amour vibes.
Harmonically quite chromatic in places. I think writing it out will just make me really depressed so I don’t think I’ll bother. Shame, pozz I could have presented it to dat Ruchti snail mofo as a freshly discovered obscurity and got him to make a half hour recording from it
Enjoy, or otherwise. I was going to call it Pensees d’eschatologie but that would be just too fucking much. I quite like that as a title but it’s absurdly pretentious, to beyond Poon philosophy musing levels.