The thrust here is to completely lose yourself. It's to take yourself somewhere you're going to have a hard time getting back from. It's about setting out with careless abandon and considering all options with enthusiastic vigor. It's needing to feel all muscles and bones stretched further than they've ever been stretched before. It's needing to completely disassociate oneself from all of the things that have ever felt normal. It's having our eyelids propped open for days, going fully bloodshot and sandy. Starring writes music that obliterates perception and takes a person right into those rivers of altered realism, where everything's caked in a cooked haze and there are any number of ways that they could all take us. Nothing's for certain and it's seems as if that all serves a purpose. You've suddenly developed a desire to be unproductive and just sit in the darkness, aside from a lone lava lamp and listen as lead singer Clara Hunter sings about burning in bed and wasting nights with a sleepyhead that she's probably not going to be able to count on. They are songs for the slackers and the stoners, for those who would love something anthemic to accompany them through all of the manic, depressing times that they're forced to go through. It's better to just deconstruct their days and nights with aggressive upheaval, picking them apart and making them sound rather mysterious and like thunderstorms that never produce any rain, wind, thunder or lightning. They simply build themselves up in the west, turn everything into night and them just pass over people, cooling off the temperatures and giving everyone a chance to see impressive power up close. It's a chance to be threatening, without being serious about the threats. Odds are things are going to work out, or just as well, never be as bad as they were looking like they were going to get. The front's passed through, even if the haze doesn't look like it's going anywhere anytime soon.