Half Mystic Journal

We have a fondness for music. We like music that haunts us whole and grants us a door to the dream. Music ochre and buried, liminal and limitless. We like music that pokes at the edges of sound, of geography, of taxonomy. Music that watches without flinching. Sky-stretched music. Open-mouthed music. Music tender and tremulous, possessive and possessed. Music that knows what it can’t live without. Music meaning open palms and open psalms, meaning...