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Dysnomia itself is a condition to do with poor, almost nonexistent memory when it comes to names and words. This is a record of subtle but absolutely constant changes. You may find yourself entranced, and, upon snapping out of it, hear that everything is different, but, at the same time, almost the same, like you can’t grasp what sounds have filtered out, and which have just appeared to shift the tone of the entire piece. Memory is a pretty granted thing for the healthy. When we imagine nightmare-y situations about loss of function, it’s usually, you know, a sense. Memory is hard to even fathom. If I had to put into words what I think it’d be like, I’d say it’s that vague confusion, that simmering discomfort or even dread, knowing something has changed but not quite sure what or where or if anyone else is feeling the same thing.
Whew, heavy! I don’t want you to think this album is miserable to listen to. It’s actually really beautiful, and can even function as a nice piece of ambient, taking your surroundings and turning them in to something entirely different. It seems to evolve slowly at first, but it’s surprisingly satisfying to sit through the whole thing, like somewhere inside the quiet motion there’s a definite structure that your mind can’t help but feel and acknowledge. Check it out. Don’t multitask.
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