Clay,
I said I didn't want to write your fucking myspace thing... Your music is all sleepy and dreamy and sad and sappy and angry and beat-y and it makes me think of a picture of a cold landscape with the occasional burst of warm sun-keyboards and guitar layers, but if I write about it, it'll make you look like a real pontsy-pontser. Maybe you should just write something really clinical like "melodic dream-math rock from toronto" or "Kilcolman doesn't like to sleep or eat. He has an aversion to certain textures (tomatoes/pillows/boogeymen/toast). While his texture-accessible friends snooze and stuff-face, Kil sits on the carpeted floor in his shared, Toronto computer room and makes the soundtrack to a faint, hungry man-movie."
Stuff it/do it yourself,
Mark
