Kevin morby

Changing Colours

New Zealand Spinach

Dumcane

BST is the third single off ‘Expressions of Interest’, the debut long player by Melbourne/Naarm post-punk band screensaver. The third single from the highly anticipated debut album 'Expressions of interest' out on Heavy Machinery (AU) and Upset the Rhythm (UK). 'BST' is a blend of krautrock infused electronics and new wave aesthetics. Full of swirling bass synths and pounding motorik drums, lead singer Krystal Maynard explores notions of stolen opinions and baseless facts, as we all struggle for relevance in an overcrowded collective headspace.

Recorded by Julian Cue and Christopher Stephenson and mastered by David Stepford.

Buy/Sell/Trade

Sometimes a Cloud Is Just a Cloud: Slow Growers, Sleeper Hits and Lost Songs (2001–2021)

When the Stars Are Out

This Is A Photograph

Intro

They say you never go back to the same place. I say you also never return to the same song. And if you do, you end up finding another shadow among jasmine. That’s what happens in Espiral: it starts in a garden where memory trips over your name and ends with an invisible embrace that leaves you shaking, both warm and cold at the same time.

There’s a place in Entre tus sombras y jazmín where everything is shy and sweet: time falls like dry leaves on an old tablecloth, the sun hides behind your eyes, and me, not sure if I’m singing or whispering, I keep my name safe in your garden. And there I stay, because leaving would mean getting lost.

Then, in Te hablé en silencio, one realizes talking doesn’t help. Better to whisper, stay in the mist, and make yourself invisible so you get seen anyway. It’s a cheap magic trick: being flower, seed, and spring without anyone noticing. Sad part: the other side has forgotten; beautiful part: you still wait, because waiting is what you do, even if it hurts, even if it’s ridiculous.

Next comes Lo que elegí, which has nothing heroic about it: walking through a desert is boring, dirty, and slow, and the stones don’t applaud. One wonders if someone is watching from afar —sure they are— and if they’re throwing shadows at you. Doesn’t matter. What matters is knowing that time drags everything, even your dumbest decisions, and that you leave traces without asking permission.

Then the coyote appears in Danza del coyote, a lovable son of a gun: breaks the order, makes you laugh, screams, and makes you realize that peace isn’t sleeping, it’s dancing over embers without burning too badly. A blind master of ceremonies: breaks you, rebuilds you, and makes you sing with throat and heart, even if you don’t know what you’re saying.

Then comes Lógica de Sol, and logic doesn’t matter. The sun doesn’t charge, doesn’t demand, doesn’t lie. You sing, you dance, you burn fears and applaud the tenderness whispering everywhere. No altars, no dictators; just a little light scratching your back, telling you everything’s fine, even if it’s not.

La Bicicleta, the bycicle: when you don’t know if you’re coming or going, but you pedal, and the world spins with you. Your body moves, wind slaps your face, and suddenly everything seems simple. Simple and extraordinary, like life itself.

Círculo Polar is the ending that feels like a beginning: cold, crystalline, icy blue. The soul purifies, sees its reflection in the ice. Contemplation calms the tremors, and the mind plunges into the quiet that precedes the end of the cycle.

Finally, Abrazo, the instrumental, closes the journey with a silent gesture: an embrace containing everything lived. No words, just resonance. Everything condenses here: memory, pain, light, shadow. The spiral closes, yet keeps spinning, because experiencing time is infinite.

In the end, Espiral isn’t an album. It’s a diary of inner adventures where you laugh, fall, get up, and ask yourself why the hell we keep listening to songs that make us tremble while time keeps falling like dry leaves.

Círculo polar

prod. neverforever
похож на труп 
и я стал ближе но только как враг
я чую вкус у твоих губ 
и твои слезы льются просто так
отпусти мою руку 
пока я сыплюсь на пол
собери все куски 
создай свой лучший эскиз за ночь
лучше промолчи
пусть все останется тайной 
когда у тебя спросят что за человек щас в ванной
просто скажи что я те не нужен
выстрели в голову органы тут же 
лезут наружу
я безоружен 
и без нее мой дом сейчас гниет 
мой дом гниет 
мой дом гниет 
мой дом гниет 

Jamie

Kevin Morby

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