“For nearly two years our cities, which were once teeming with life, have become liminal spaces. Even Detroit, a place physically shaped by human departure, feels increasingly empty.
I can’t help being reminded of all the other liminal spaces that frame my early memories - the dusty hallways at school, an empty pool drained during a long winter, the doctor’s office waiting rooms that always smelled like anxiety. There’s a nauseating sense of the past echoing into the present, of the nostalgia and dread of childhood re-entering into the vacuum of our current lives.
This is a difficult feeling to turn into a “techno album”, as it has few obvious connotations. In my approach to the piece, I knew I couldn’t rely on melody, because the emotions it provokes are often too obvious to accurately capture this concept. The experience of liminality is intangible; there’s a sense of vague familiarity that is slightly out of reach. Instead, I incorporated field recordings and mangled sounds from the real world. It’s an album that relies on a sense of physical space, but a space you can’t quite put a name to. A space that feels familiar, but you’re not sure why.
The project is made whole by the evocative artwork of Ryote, who brings the themes together in a unique visual style. The beautifully printed vinyl sleeve represents the three aspects of liminality; physical, mental, and digital, and ties them together with the music contained within.”