I’m beginning to question the drinking water in Tennessee. While the state has produced its fair share of wackos and people-hating wunderkinds (and we’re not just talking about Nashvegas), it’s also breeding a new mutation of experimental musician. Perhaps it isn’t the drinking water but some sort of food or grain found in select outliers. Maybe aliens stole select children in the night between the years 1980 and 1995 and only recently have they been given passage back to earth to spread the peaceful message. Could it be these are not people at all, but sentient beings bearing warning to the beginning of Skynet becoming aware? Whatever the case, I’m going to make damn sure I heed the warnings of Joseph Volmar. As Clearing, his slowed Blade Runner ambiance is a gentlemanly call that only a Southern could extend. Its lengthy strands of icy truthiness may only be decipherable by a chosen few, but I hope that, even in misguided interpretation, the heart of the matter is still reaching the neural receptors it’s meant for. Now if you’ll excuse me, all this chill drone has made my butt hurt and a strange radio transmission is coming from my nipples.