A couple of years ago, we weren’t having such a great time. T’is true. We would write some of the most self-deprecating and downright depressing shit imaginable (typically soundtracked by Alkaline Trio, just in case there was any doubt about how fucking emo we generally are) on this very blog. It was just a very confusing time in generally. We felt like we had sold out in the worst way imaginable and for some time even managed to kid ourselves into thinking we had done the right thing, somehow intermittently justifying certain naughty things around the occasions that we would commit them. We must have put our friends through a pretty rough time as a result, as we can’t imagine that we were a terribly pleasant person to be around during some of the darker moments. Nevertheless, even in those darker moments, there was nearly always something that would suddenly crop up and make us smile. One of those things – a person in fact – was a rather wise-beyond-her-years character in the form of Abi Ocia. We used to call her “The Fever” for jokes, but also for specific nomenclature reasons. At the time, Abi Ocia had already been introduced to another good chum of ours called Draper, and they were happily making music together – the difference here being rather than just another session orchestrated by meddling managers (i.e. us), this time music seemed to be made for music’s sake and no real objective other than just exploring the possibilities therein. There was a particular song that we can’t share right now that we truly believe was written specifically for us, based on our own arrogance and that our more philosophical conversations with Abi led to us believing we may have been the subject matter (which perhaps provided a less-jovial effort than Draper‘s present to us on our 30th birthday, a rather poignant acoustic number called Ach Is Sexy), but also more drawn from the sophisticated level of communication that we were having with someone nearly half our own age. She was also a heady amateur boxer who taught such combativeness to other girls that aspired to do the same thing, so if her intelligent level of debate isn’t enough to go on, respect the fact that Abi Ocia literally knows how to knock you the fuck out. And if that’s still not enough, let’s get stuck into the music – Running is indeed the first offering proper from this Amazonian sass-pot, following her former introduction into the world featuring on Draper‘s more thought-provoking number Home. Its as delicate as the subject matters it touches upon; and as punchy as Abi’s own right hook. In its ethereal state, we’re instinctively left thinking of a cool concoction of Lapsley, HONNE and Shura – and Draper of course, seeing as he co-wrote and co-produced this bad boy. Simply beautiful.