Blue Alphabet

Having gone all sicky face, I'm stuck bloggin' in my beddie. I don't know how to feel about my life at this moment, but I'm taking this downtime as a chance to explore my inner workings a bit deeper, a bit softer.


I got My My's Songs for the Gentle and the new The Field album (hotttttttttt) the other day and both have been sending me straight to their respective chunks of the pastoral. Where The Field makes glacier-dense tracks that will leave your inner ear stuck full with chunks of ice slag, My My favor a bleached sun radiance, pulsating a sterile warmth that's as underwhelming as it is overcoming. Since it seems like every 'blog house' blog in the world has a field track up right now, let's (us house bloggers of the world, you neoligizing d-bags) hit up the grass on the other side of the wall. Fuck the neighbors.
My My-Blue Skies


Football Team, meet Eric Mendenhall... He's a pint-sized double threat, a player who can at once split the field in two with the ferocity of his shredding while also transporting you to the world inside the blimp, where we can all get high on helium. Lately, Eric has been in an isolation chamber making deft drone pieces that hit frequencies liable to piss off the middle-aged and the semi-deaf. This one's a monster made of cotton candy. He's also my musical and physical dopplebanger.
Eric Mendenhall-Alphabet