Silly Killings
Iwave Records
April 17, 2008



You don't have to wake up at 3 a.m to understand what it feels like for some people to live in spaces of time with no age. You may be sitting at your desk, looking through a new window to the world, trying to make a new one in your head as well, and have flashbacks of 70's New York, your girlfriend handing you a dose before you enter a Velvet Underground concert at the Factory. It's the right time to be driving, late at night, heading north, singing your heart out to music you don't know. Nothing will happen between you and the world, no one will ever know your secrets; you are, as you read yesterday somewhere, glad nobody can know what you think. In the end, it's OK to be sitting in some dark corner, coffee mug in hand, taking care of your cuts with iodine–remember not to fight before dinner with your parents–singing some child-like songs to yourself, feeling like a paper girl; nothing else you can do. But maybe you do have to go through all of this to understand the way music makes itself one with you when stripped down to its bare functions, relating each of its loosely pulsed beats which make no time at all with each of your last heartbeats as you wander away in post-psychedelic non-dreams. Just remember to turn off the lights when you leave the room. [they say you are/a lost cause] - postbop