like my hands were Marcia Griffiths feet, electrostatic, they slid dusted off the wheatstone console basketball games crop dusted soles,
palm brushed wet chalkdusted up your chances to the chance of the other squad losing. Nah, fuck. CHAOS! RIGHT?! Much dust galvanized, stuck on the console, much chaos went whimpering to the edge of the ocean,
where people sit, wind whipped, decaying into dust
A new EP from Low Leaf expands on the wide-ranging and intoxicating jazz and ambient fusion that defined her earlier work. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 3, 2024