It’s really all the same isn’t? No matter what micro-genre or poetic turn of phrase one uses, music — whether fixating on a crazy thing called love or panicking about mortality — always boils down to one thing: Isn’t it wild to be human? It can take on any shape, sound, story; it can harp on heartbreak cliches or pick at the scab of self-loathing. Nonetheless, writing a song never gets old. At least that’s what I think London-based Pynch are saying with their album-announcing single ...
It’s really all the same isn’t? No matter what micro-genre or poetic turn of phrase one uses, music — whether fixating on a crazy thing called love or panicking about mortality — always boils down to one thing: Isn’t it wild to be human? It can take on any shape, sound, story; it can harp on heartbreak cliches or pick at the scab of self-loathing. Nonetheless, writing a song never gets old. At least that’s what I think London-based Pynch are saying with their album-announcing single ...
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