Once. Once we hotly anticipated a new album, lined up to purchase it and spent the next weekend pouring over the art, reading all the lyrics and dissecting the liner notes. An album used to be a journey with a beginning, middle and end. There were narratives, emotional highs and lows and the chance to peek into the hearts of your favorite artists to see what pain, joy or rage might mirror your own. An album was a standalone piece of art. Even if you didn’t love every part of it, even if you skipped some of the songs, it was still a body of work: a meal of sound and a color to be savored. 
  
But now we live in the age of the Single. 
  
That bite sized, processed and curated kernel that defines the artists’ marketability. The single, shiny and polished, should be “radio friendly”. Should be between two and a half and three and a half minutes long. Should be this. Should be that. 
  
We. Reject. This. 
  
We make albums because what we have to say can’t be made clear in a single breath. We don’t make “singles” because we don’t care about shilling $0.99 downloads. We don’t care if we are never heard across morning commutes, squeezed between commercials for cars and prank calls and cheap, mindless chatter. 
  
So instead of releasing a single, we are offering an advanced release from our upcoming album: a song that you will hear before all the others. This isn’t our catchiest song. It isn’t the most accessible song. It’s the song we feel captures what this album is about. What we are about. So pour over this morsel we serve up to whet your appetite for our first offering. 
  
Get hungry, because we want to kill the single.