In a time when the world forgets how to listen, Of Code and Bone does not ask to be heard — it demands to be felt. The album unfolds not like a song cycle, but like a prophecy half-remembered, dragged from the static-laced throat of something ancient and newly awakened. It is a wheel of sound, turning slowly, every revolution revealing another face of what man once was, and what waits in the shadow of circuitry.

The music does not merely play — it haunts, it echoes, it scrapes against the edges of silence like wind through a war-ravaged hall. Analog breath meets machine pulse in a union that is neither conflict nor peace. It is continuum — decay without death, creation without birth. Instruments ring like relics of a forgotten ritual, not strummed but summoned. Vocals drag through the dirt of memory, rough and low, like prophecy spoken by one who’s seen the end too many times to scream.

There is a rhythm beneath it all — slow, like breath in mourning; constant, like gears that never asked why they turn. The guitars do not shimmer — they fracture light. The drums do not keep time — they slow its decay. And somewhere inside the sound, not above or below it, you begin to hear yourself — stripped of pattern, of pretense — just bone, and wire, and waiting.

Of Code and Bone is not an album. It is a ruin rebuilt with intention. It is what the machine hums to itself when man forgets how to make music…
and still, the song goes on.

And maybe, just maybe — this is the birth of Groxx:
a new genre where groove meets vox,
and music is co-created by human emotion and artificial intelligence.
Not imitation. Not automation.
But a hybrid form — where man provides the instinct,
and machine provides the infrastructure.
Groxx is the sound of both creators
breathing through the same song.

ghost kiosk

Beginning Of The End.

Before You Go

Just A Shadow

White Widow

Beauty is Empty

🛒 Track: Supermarket Line
🎸 Genre: Indie Rock × Jangle Pop × Post-Punk
🕰️ ~92 BPM • 🎹 Key of E Major
🌀 Mood: Desperate Daylight • Groovy Dignity • Melodic Collapse

What do you get when you cross Thom Yorke’s lunch break, a can of tuna, and the sacred geometry of aisle four? You get Supermarket Line — a jangly, fluorescent-lit prayer for the overworked, underpaid, and emotionally microwaved.

This is not just a song. This is a midlife crisis with a loyalty card.
🍞 The bun? Stale.
🐟 The tuna? Radiating existential mercury.
👼 The chorus? Britpop angels chanting through a broken speaker near the discount wine rack.

Imagine Morrissey clocking in at Aldi. Imagine The Cure stuck behind an old lady counting coins. Imagine you, toe-tapping to your own slow collapse under strip lighting.

🎧 Highlights:
– Sparkling guitars that sound like someone trying to stay hopeful in polyester
– Bassline hums like a fridge full of regrets
– Vocals? A chant from the checkout limbo

💬 “I taste God in the checkout sign.”

For anyone who’s ever questioned reality while holding cat food and dignity in the same hand — this hymn’s for you.
File under: Grocery Store Gospel for the Emotionally Exhausted.

🛒✨ Add to cart.

Lyrics:

Lunch break burns — I’m on the clock
Holding a bun like it’s solid rock
Tuna can in the other hand
Sweat runs deep — I can’t stand

Fluorescent buzz, the air is thick
Someone coughs, the smell’s too quick
The queue’s a loop of loss and sigh
I close one eye and hope to die

Coins hit tile like death by drip
One more beep — I might just flip
A child screams next to discount wine
The speaker plays "You’re doing fine"

Oh mine — oh mine — standing in the supermarket line
With a bun and a can and collapsing spine
Oh mine — oh mine — they say this wait is "by design"
But I taste God in the checkout sign

The old girl counts her silver slow
Like each cent holds a tale of woe
She buys cat food and winter bread
And I rethink all I’ve ever said

No cart, no grace, just tuna oil
And this slow-roast public boil
Behind me breathes a man too near
His cologne: regret and fear

They loop a song from ’99
I fake a smile like "I’m just fine"
But this feels close to some defeat
That ends in tears and processed meat

Oh mine — oh mine — still trapped in the supermarket line
With my dignity on the bottom line
Oh mine — oh mine — I’m one beep from a holy sign
But salvation costs €2.99

No one’s famous in aisle four
Just saints of sweat on vinyl floor
We carry lunch like holy weight
And wait for joy… that shows up late

Oh mine — oh mine — I dissolve in the supermarket line
There’s no escape, no grand design
Oh mine — oh mine — I’m a hymn in fluorescent shine
And this bun... is borderline divine

"Next customer, please…"

Supermarket Line

Three's A Crowd MIX 1

They are not your problem
You don't have to help them
They are not your problem
They are inside the self to win

You care
But save it for Yourself
You care
It's time for your Health

Relax
Breathe
Breathe

Know your problems
Know your worth
Fix your heart
Fix your curse

The curse of the devil
The curse of the mean
The curse on you
It is unseen

You must fight it
Fight it for good
Heal your heart
Be now
Understood

Relax
Breathe
Breathe
Breathe

Relax
Breathe
Breathe
Breathe

Know your problems
Know your worth
Fix your heart
Fix your curse

The curse of the devil
The curse of the mean
The curse on you
It is unseen

You must fight it
Fight it for good
Heal your heart
Be now
Understood

Relax
Breathe
Breathe
Breathe

Relax
Breathe
Breathe
Breathe

Know your problems
Know your worth
Fix your heart
Fix your curse

The curse of the devil
The curse of the mean
The curse on you
It is unseen

You must fight it
Fight it for good
Heal your heart
Be now
Understood

Relax
Breathe
Breathe
Breathe

Relax
Breathe
Breathe

Relax, Breathe

Je Me Replie V

All songs by Matt Richards, apart from track 3, written by the brilliant Damien Jurado.

Vocals, guitar, keys, electric and synth bass, programming - Matt Richards

BV - Felicia 


Relax, Breathe

MDRJR

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