About the Album
“All the versions you outgrew— Smile from mirrors that adore you”
A lyric from the song “Deja Vu” — track 11
INTERLVDE
What this album is:
a side-door altar that opens inside a much larger temple. The album I was writing when this album interrupted.
FVNERAL is a long ceremonial walk for me — Tarot cards are taking me through 22 ghosts (survival masks), and 4 gates. This is the whole architecture of the false selves that once kept me moving. Each ghost gets a eulogy.
INTERLVDE arrives mid-ritual like a bright-eyed interruption— a crow landing on the program and pecking a hole through seriousness so air can enter.
This is the pause inside the ritual, where play returns.
INTERLVDE is an in-between album — songs for landing, grieving, laughing, dreaming, and trusting yourself again. This is the in-between. A place to stand while things rearrange themselves.
This album often speaks in Crow voice because Crow holds rooms. Crow hosts. Crow circles, guards, watches, and blesses the exits.
This album loves like Louise Hay: gentle, embodied, kind, steady. It uses phrases that fit in a human mouth on an ordinary day. It chooses today as a holy unit. It treats willingness as a doorway, a posture, a tender agreement.
This album winks like Crowley: ritual structure, playful inversion, sacred mischief, language as a blade and a blessing. It treats the in-between as power. It treats the pause as a gate.
How it came through me
Much of this record came through a very specific doorway: my kitchen journal.
A small notebook. A living surface. A place where my hands touch paper while dishes wait, water runs, and the house breathes. I keep a picture of me and my granny on it.
I stand there intending to “try and rhyme a few lines.”
My mind steps aside.
The songs lined up and arrive one by one..
Domestic space becomes temple.
Grief becomes language.
Play becomes medicine.
Crow becomes host.
This record appears while I carve FVNERAL, and the timing carries meaning for me: I do deep ghost-work, then my psyche opens a side channel that brings relief, integration, laughter, and safety.
Song-by-song mythos
1. INTERLVDE
This is the host at the door. Crow stands at the threshold and speaks like a eulogy with a grin in the corner of her mouth.
This track frames the whole record for me: play as cleansing, laughter as protection, movement as integration. It carries a ritual truth I am learning to return to — support arrives through commitment. Presence changes the room. The gap becomes a place I live in, rather than a place I fear.
This track sets the rules of engagement: I enter gently, I stay present, I let the ghosts loosen, I keep the work alive.
2. Mom Magick Protection Ritual (MMRP)
This is the circle cast. This is consent made audible.
Crow circles what holds value. The voice gathers me back in. The chant builds an axis — crown to root, creation to receiving, sky to earth. The words carry structure and tenderness.
This track prepares the field. It establishes a boundary and a blessing. It gives the album a clean container: permission first, protection second, then the deeper waters.
This song was created with a ritual I wrote, inspired by the Lesser Banishing Protection Ritual (LBRP).
3. What is the Cost of Loss?
This song speaks in the language of numbers because grief tries to calculate its own weight.
Kitchen-sink imagery, checks bouncing, being rich in old apologies — the mind attempts measurement, and the heart keeps speaking anyway. The song treats loss as a currency that never converts cleanly.
It also introduces the album’s recurring altar for me: ordinary life objects becoming symbols. Dishes. Sink. Pennies. Paper. Tide. These things become sacred because they appear where grief actually lives for me.
4. Cardinal in Mourning
This track moves grief into nature — sky, branch, bone, red between brown and blue.
The song makes mourning visible and livable. A cardinal lands close. Grief stays near. Love still moves. Fear becomes footing. Grief becomes sky. I’m allowed to stand inside the ache while feeling held by something steady.
This track is both elegy and companion.
5. A Little Bird Told Me
This is the minimalist spell.
“Everything is fine / everything is good” becomes a charm I choose to believe.
If I believe it, it is.
Placed here, the song acts as a pivot — the moment where a simpler phrase and a quick feather appear. It shows how belief itself shapes the field, how a small sentence can steady the body and move things forward.
Tiny on purpose. Light on purpose.
A pause that works.
6. Tree Is in the Crow
“Tree is in the crow” flips the image and changes the meaning. Crow carries the tree. Crow contains support, structure, and growth. Branch exists because I land. Support forms as I remain. Movement reveals what’s real.
This track carries a central doctrine in my mythos: I carry the structure that once carried me. Safety becomes familiar. Joy moves naturally.
It’s a sovereignty song disguised as a nature poem.
7. Am I Awake or Asleep?
This is the threshold track.
Dreams walk with me, talk with me, laugh with me.
“Delirious” names the edge where reality feels thin and meaningful at once. The repetition mirrors crossing between worlds.
This track is the hinge of the album — logic loosens, listening strengthens.
8. I’m Glass
This song is about fragility without disappearance.
“I’m Glass” lives in the question of visibility — being seen versus being looked through. Glass carries light, lets things pass, and still holds its shape. The song explores that tension gently.
Breaking isn’t framed as failure here. It’s framed as sound. As resonance. As proof of presence. Falling slowly becomes a way of listening instead of collapsing.
This song doesn’t ask to be fixed.
It asks to be witnessed.
Even if that witnessing begins with me.
9. Alive is a Lie
This is the cosmic grin.
It breaks the spell of performing aliveness correctly. Breakdown becomes movement. Laughter becomes punctuation. The song embraces paradox and turns it into rhythm.
It sets up the next track beautifully — willingness as a doorway.
10. WILLING
This is Louise Hay in crow feathers.
Willingness becomes posture, choice, stance — the simplest beginning. I arrive unfinished, and I stay. I come unsure, and I stay.
Creativity flows when I soften my hold. I loosen the mold. Old story folds.
This track turns insight into daily practice. It makes change feel kind.
11. Deja Vu
This song is about recognition.
Déjà vu appears as a quiet signal — a moment that feels familiar because attention sharpens. The song treats that sensation as memory waking up (Lucid), not confusion. Feeling remembers. Timing aligns.
This track sits near the end of the album as a gentle awareness cue: when the system flickers, I listen.
A reminder that knowing arrives softly, and has been with me longer than I realized.
12. Jolly Fool Folly
This is the Fool dancing near the cliff in bright shoes. (Inspired by the fool tarot card)
Hollowness becomes room. Room becomes play. Choosing myself becomes freedom.
I trust my steps, and I can laugh along the way. Even at the mistakes.
It lifts posture and restores movement before the final blessing.
13. Crow Is Always Watching You
This track is the closing blessing.
Crow speaks like a caretaker at the end of a long ritual, reminding me that rest is part of the work. The ghosts loosen. The mirror waits gently. Safety returns to the body.
This piece offers aftercare — a reminder to hydrate, soften, and take the night lightly. It seals the space opened by the album and sends me back into my life held, not hurried.
The record ends here on purpose: watched, loved, and allowed to rest.
The story as I would tell it
This album begins with a voice saying, come in.
Then it seals the room.
Then grief speaks in many languages — numbers, weather, birds, dreams, mirrors, paradox.
It moves from measurement to mourning, from denial to sovereignty, from threshold to clarity, from cosmic humor to embodied willingness.
Then recognition appears.
Then play.
Then care.
It feels like a real human week to me: grief in the sink, a bird on the fence, a dream that lingers, a mirror that stares back, laughter arriving mid-mess, willingness returning as the simplest medicine.
This record teaches me how to stay with my own life kindly.
Thank you for being here
Thank you for joining the ritual and spending time with this work.
Your listening completes the circle.
May play clear what feels heavy.
May willingness meet you gently, right where you stand.
A little crow’s on the wire, keeping watch over you. 🖤🪶
Tracklist
INTERLVDE
MMRP
Cost of Loss
Cardinal in Mourning
A Little Bird Told Me
Tree Is in the Crow
Am I Awake or Asleep?
I’m Glass
Alive is a Lie
WILLING
Deja Vu
Jolly Fool Folly
Crow Is Always Watching You
Releasing Feb 14, 2025.
