For two years, Drew JH York lived in a bungalow in the suburbs of a town in Essex, there he and his friend experimented with parties of people, temporarily disillusioned, playing different versions of indie music. What Drew plays himself is borne by time, belief and motivation. If it’s a genre, it’s memorable, because that’s partly how the best songs get themselves made. His question “How Do I Know?” gets more unsettling the more you get to know him backwards through the music. If I’m not used to being unsettled by 2000s chaos, then something is wrong, Drew reminds me how there’s nothing wrong. “Nothing + something” must be the most beautiful mantra hummed to itself by some poor dumbed object of paranoia, and for that reason I am thankful that Drew is now subject – to being back home, singing about that, uploading it, doing it again at some point. For if you don’t feel at home in the trillion debt regression, then something is wrong, God knows how indie uploads survive; Drew reminds me how they do even if he doesn’t know how he knows that.