An eternal struggle against time. A concept only barely existing upon all of human abstraction. Taking more than it can give, its thievery is only recognisable in anguish after the fact. It’s only when a state has changed or a situation has dissolved that you realise the only physical record of past experience is what exists in your brain. Things Are Changing Too Quickly extracts and distills the torturous feeling that the unending, foreboding onslaught of time invokes. The pulp of which stimulates the sad and late recognition of a condition’s passing. Written by a man before he’d properly entered adulthood, it’s sort of a self referring antidote to the content it addresses, in that it stood the test of time within his creative endeavour. Is it autumn already?

A sort of refuge for those once victim to their desires, wanting for love, that turns sour, inverted, ghoulish. The pace tugs you along, a cathartic journey of realisation… this ‘Love’ I wanted was duplicitous and tainted. Oh purify me, of these shared sins, and allow the loosening of its grasp to wash over me in a fury. But it does beg the question, where is the line drawn between passion and violence? I suppose you can only let your blunt intuition guide you to know: when it ain’t quite right.

Pleasure Centre find ways to occupy your brain that other music is simply not tuned in to look for. In doing so, an unusually intense feeling is conjured, forcing your brain, out of unpreparedness, to draw upon nostalgia to soothe your discomfort. A medicine of homeopathic aggravation, making things temporarily worse to reveal a fix. In some cases, this method of cure will amplify the feeling as a consequence, rather than provide direct or instant resolution. All that’s left is to press rewind and listen once again.