Replica Federation’s music is the double take you take when the fraction image is lost; when imagined shadows blanket the blanked past. It’s empty hall music, with creeks imitating themselves as dead skin and dirt settle into easy falling dust. It’s eyes closed in a black room, watching the designs in your eyes dance between lid and mind. It’s holding hands, looking forward, and not making eye contact. It’s pure memory: real or not. Cut together and cut off can be the same. You can change the way you’re understood by what you don’t say, by how novelty developes. Gab about it all and shut up with it below:
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