Hope. A fragile idea, a dying ideal.

Temporal dislocations leading us into spiraling freefalls while we so desperately try to grab onto any semblance of light, no matter how delicate it is.

Light can't be hope. Hope can't be a Glass Candle.

Chasms where rivers used to be. Fiery winds where forests used to be. Nothing where hope used to be.
___

Three months of sending stems back and forth, starting with a generated sequence. There's this synergy between Zain and I that I can't quite explain. With Glass Candles, through the whole process, though we never really knew where it would end up (who ever does?), it always moved forward.

What you hear is deconstruction after deconstruction. A constant evolution of workflow and ideas that would eventually manifest into the most collaborative effort we've ever been a part of.

There’s an analogy we’ve become quite fond of: if an idea is a beam of light, we took it and shone it through the lens of our personal tastes - ones that we’ve spent years building, of course.

Sometimes in a collab, the idea-light dissipates into nothingness — it’s not a bad thing, just artistic tastes not aligning.

Here, it only became more and more concentrated each time we re-wrote the tracks. Lasers. Takes a special kind of synergy and trust to do that. So glad we did.

Glass Candles

Prismatic Ghosts

Shattering

Hope In Freefall

This is a threefold record; of blinding hope for humanity carried in kindness; of fears for an unsustainable future; and of haunted remains of dreams.

Leaving behind our endless bladed terrain is a one-way trip to the death of all that is human — doomed habits and personality. The pain held in this separation theme is matched only by waves of isolation and hollow fragility in our journey across time and space. Someday this is a truth, perhaps, our children’s children will grapple with. 

But first, we must protect what is ours now. A climate emergency declared at a policymaking level that is decades late is still not too late. Tell a friend. Tell a colleague. Then tell everyone there is space to change. 

Dreamt under a warm sun that sustains us in every way. May it always be that way.

A Star We Never Saw

Deathly Glares Shared Under

Crumbling Towers of Men

Glimmering Ice Dust Over

Multi-disciplinary filmmaker & composer exploring the cosmic horror of living in our neo-capitalist dystopia.

Turning knobs and brains @aibr_official

Upcoming releases:
Harvest Songs

Niranjan Raghu

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