"The easiest way to describe Austin-based Leach's sound is 'like TV On The Radio took a bunch of acid.'" (Indie Shuffle)
An album conceived of during a week-long stay in a desert monastery. I like to describe this mini-album as “an exercise in devotion—to romantic love, to a departed friend, to an idealized future.” (Ovrld) The album hops between genres more than my earlier work, and is a “more intimate peek at [Leach’s] ambitions.” Sonically, the album ranges from club-thumping indie hooks in “Superego” to the folktronic gospel sensibilities of “Bad Luck," a song which "has a calm reverie you might expect from an artist twice his age." (The Revue)
If you like the music on this album, I hope you'll follow me on Spotify, below:
I started this record as a response to creative insecurity. You see, I sing my songs into a computer to record them. This is, obviously, not the way people first began creating or recording music. For that reason, the computer and its many tricks can seem to get in the way of the magic that we may experience when we listen to or perform music. For a long time I was frozen by the prospect of again baring my soul to a computer, afraid that the computer might douse the magic. Then, as these songs made their way into existence, I got over it. In the words of David Byrne, “Music isn’t fragile.”
The record that came out of that tempered insecurity is one that I hope you’ll enjoy. A necessary sidenote: Kokedama is a Japanese art form in which the artist grows a plant out of a bed of moss. Neither of the two elements is rooted in earth, since the system is suspended in the air. I love the idea that two parts of this life-system are rooted together, yet the whole system is suspended in air. I think it’s analogous to a lot of our shared experience, especially growing up. We find things to root ourselves in while swinging through life.