Fog Chaser

Below picture: a collage by fantastic Matt Wisniewski and also a picturesque blog I found in the process of this citation.

[We need more bands that remind us specifically of Modest Mouse. The people, ideas, personas who have all but lost their heads to the big best music, who have an ability to record and to sell me the soles of their output. It's not all MM of course]; there’s an original essence deterrable from the sound of Fog Chaser by Steady Lean, something of seeing a SoundCloud as if it were my own, the “weirdo” that you named yourself in a message that propped up in a music blog’s inbox, the strings and chords that I could strike, the voice that I recognise, the muscle’s memory, the heart I have that carries on regardless.

I’m already in love with the hard-to-catch persona that is Steady Lean‘s warm vague shine, whose insight I’ve mustered through various windows – if only it could be more and this could be a world where I shake your hand firmly with an eye-contact of overwhelming appreciation. A mark I’ll make here; if at all as only a review of a SoundCloud that became active 19 hours ago from posting, and that I want to hear more from. This is as if I go to sleep, with only an Internet review of an Internet window to truly savour. As for the real life; I’ll represent it in imagination and dreams, sleepiness and happiness, hopes and falls, the flux I’d fall asleep dead if I didn’t have to fumble around with.

Catch my drift? This is a great #-plays song by a great #-followers artist: I have come to know him and it through an inbox, through a SoundCloud, through a medium, through a vortex which I wish would succumb to the burn of my reciprocated engagement, my reciprocated escape, my human excitement. Transcend distance and duration; I wish my memory could diminish in some inbox, on some page, some photo, some link, and leave myself simply resting in its place. It always feels like I’m chasing a fog, and I wouldn’t mind raining just for once myself.

Myself, a listener, and a love for Fog Chaser, the voice and the instrument; this is the kind of song whose slurring rocky list of words seep and tumble through the thick skin after a several listen, whose forceful primitive guitar chord schema starts to sync with the force and primality of your waking mediative moments. It’s good to message, to follow, to heart, to listen, to read, to profile, to whatever, it’s good to carry on regardless.

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