I stepped out early in the morning into a beautiful, crisp, still park.  The sun sat unmoving just amongst the treetops, shining white cold. This disturbed the birds, who hopped from one foot to another on their branches, wings hunched up round their necks for warmth, but barely budged them songwards.  I lost my place in life for a while. 

Other lives progressed with mild purpose. People on bikes rolled by, their chain scraping and sticking as they went; one chided me with their bell as I ambled without thought into their path .  In the distance I could hear a car and a refuse truck; those sounds bounced off my icy cocoon.  I remained until the wind began to eat holes in my cheeks, long enough to hear M Rosner’s Morning Tones revealing itself like blades of grass through melting snow on a winter’s morning. 

Fans of Mountains’ Sewn (also on Apestaartje), fans of Tape’s sublime Rideau,  fans of brillantness; you will all find lots to love herein.  Listen to the wonderful wonderful “Kobenhavn” here.   Buy it, love it, here