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Composition & Arrangement by Phillip Edwin Osborne

Mastered by James Edward Armstrong

Young & Beautiful

Composition & Arrangement by Phillip Edwin Osborne

Mastered by James Edward Armstrong

Bandcamp S/Q\K

S/Q\K

The Subtle Economics of Not Looking Back

From bone to flint to sharpened spears. From bronze to iron and onto steel. The bravery of metallurgy has set minds alight with ambitions of dominance, both within the fray and in the statues that adorn our streets. Your disposition is metal, your success is metal, but your death is printed onto paper memorials as if the weight of your actions were too heavy to hold. If you're lucky, you might afford metal leafed into recesses of stone, but the flowering perseverance of our enemy - decay - will weather your name no matter how hard you try. 

Who needs paper now we have silicon. Come together! Collapse space with the dexterity of a reduced alphabet. A predictive text that refuses to learn from years of supremacism. Nimble fingers demand jokes - feints toward social cohesion - it takes a nimble mind to disassociate from the turmoil of your own fragile freedom.


More Disciples Must Act!

After Party exists somewhere inside the shell of the persona created in Keaton Henson's 2023 album, House Party. It is the dark, hardened ball clattering around inside the inflated self like one of those erratic blow up figurines dancing on the sidewalk. A very common sight in Los Angeles.

The City of Angels is no stranger to fame. In New York they pan for gold and lost diamonds in the cracks between sidewalks: in LA you could legitimately scrape the dusty DNA of past stars out of the fissures of this fault line state.

Keaton and I spoke about this jeopardy attached to fame, celebrity status and the parallel realities one could embark upon in pursuit of greatness, in service of inflation. So, this is what I focussed on when creating After Party: to create a story of fame around celebrity.

Where House Party toys with illuminating the warmth and happiness associated with that idyllic oasis of fame; After Party drives out in the darkness of night, past billboards of ambition and the gravestones of youth’s broken hearts. Past the fading projections of child stars in drive-in cinemas. Speeding faster and faster through the desert bowl until gravity compels you to face that great depression. Air born and weightless one last time as your tyres leap off the lip of a cliff. Engulfed in the death grip of your own suspense, you wait. There are no flash bulbs to witness your final performance. No microphones to extract epithets of wisdom. Only the reality of an external, uninterested existence that crashes down upon your soul. A wreck soon to be covered with dust: an unmarked grave of your own making.

PEO

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