Thunder crackles and falafels. Pots and pans and, “thank you Mam’s”. Something darker to start the evening.
This one was recorded in the gallery and has a brooding edge to it. It reminds me of Portishead a little, though I’d laugh at drawing comparisons with them. It’s funny, I’m feeling good toady, but still, out pops a sinister tune. Like the rhythm.
Image by Cristina Popovici