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When Things Cast No Shadow

by Głós

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Close Combat 10:49
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Ghost Margin 07:48
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Ghost Memory 04:39
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about

Panorama views, bar areas, hotel rooms. The same white sheets are waiting at home. All these rooms look like a promise, yet I keep the curtains shut. Later, I watch the world turn small, then I nod off as soon as in the air. Nine-hundred and ninety-nine other people and I, on a spaceship towards the heavens. It must be a little bit weird, meeting another human.

And it never rains above the clouds, and I lack proper sleep. New people in same clothes, different tongues, different languages. As soon as the music plays it feels like home. This is the shit that I live for. And the shit that I die for are the weekends. I love the food, yet all I can think of is to brush my teeth, to fix my hair. It'll end by Monday, with regrets, bad breath, and mint ice tea.

Too much perfume, because it'll mix with the smoke anyway. Pretty faces, Whisky-Cola, Cola and red wine. I'm only here this once, like an angel, like a ghost. These people aren't here to remember, they're here to forget, this much I knew. I wish for company, for someone to talk to. I have so much to tell, so much to say—but the laughter is too loud to talk.

The silence before the storm, the stampede, the thunder. The beeping noise that keeps on ringing. So few hours left to get to the airport, I wish I made more pictures. The feeling fades like a scent, so does the memory. This was not meant to last, none of it ever was. It's like you never knew. The music doesn't stop, it's only interrupted by the week.

The grind's so different, nothing to relate to. Early mornings, bright when warm, and dark when cold—still nothing to relate to, though I prefer the cold. I miss taxi nights, overpriced shots, cheap beers—and I never know if I prefer going there or actually being there. But I hate the walks home. And the pretty faces, they keep coming, no matter the digits. All I have is games.

Rivers, lawns, and history—underneath, no longer above. Lanterns, windows, and reflections. And I love the neon lights, but I hate to see the bars go. Dressed in dawn, offering her service past the costume shop. I tell her I preferred fake fur. And that you have never been so pretty. And that you have never been so beautiful. Because when things cast no shadow, it means there's no light.

credits

released December 21, 2020

Written and recorded in Berlin during the Covid lock-down in 2020.
Written, arranged, produced, and mixed by Christoph Grosty.
Mastered by Linn Elisabet.
Cover photography by Nina Klein.
Artwork by Christoph Grosty with components by Angela Klein.

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about

Głós Tokyo, Japan

Non-Print label head and producer Głós wants to create something outside of the conforming realm of Techno. He has already reinvented his early work through his first album, and his lucid yet on-point productions continue to reveal a rarefied character. ... more

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