Along minimalist backdrops of shadowy avant-ambiance & littered with industrial throb and scuffle flickers the stoic projection of Wizard Apprentice's voice, a dusty stream of spoke-sung psycho-drama detailing a period in her life that, a fading hell, will shine lights (and lend shadows) across your own post-poisoned trials with sociopaths, abusers, and the frail thornology of growing through traumatic reconciliation.
“The journey into the poem makes of the poet a burning sun that gives birth to a million shadows.”
~Jimmy Santiago Baca
The above quote may as well be about WP. It’s hard to recommend stuff like this, because it’s beyond a serious downer, the opposite of escape. This is a sonorous but no less bitter pill for those that seek an outside lens and/or parallel into their own pain. This will be bewildering to those who have yet to experience anything like it, and it’ll be a grimy indictment unto those who find themselves more important than others.
For those only along for the sonic journey, WA’s voice is, even were it stripped of meaning, an expertly crafted balance between serenity and surrender, beauty and abandonment. Her cadences ring clear while her attack is cell-padded numb. Once you hear the intention behind some consonants’ crispness over others, it’s almost impossible to dissociate the sounds from words, the words from hurt, and the hurt from its slow recovery.
and/or
—Jacob An Kittenplan
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