Still, an unchanging backdrop can make you feel a different way. The side of a warehouse, tagged with paint, its roof adorned with an unflattering crown of twigs, with an unknown black residue still clinging on from when it surely once dripped down its side. A dull, uninspiring sight to the eyes, yet one that can be an everchanging vessel for the ears. Its physical form is untouched, but as its soundtrack changes the feelings around it shift; a warm, inviting hideout for The Avalanches, a hopeless, decaying ruin for Radiohead, a chaotic, desolate nightmare against the violent dissonance of Daughters. This time under the hazy guitars and the driving, eclectic vocals of harunemuri’s lostplanet, the drab scene seems more lively, almost nostalgic; it gives the place a sense of familiarity, its poor blemished condition stops being so important for a while. The soundtrack drives on until the train disappears through the tunnel and the warehouse disappears from both view and mind.