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kitchen ‘November Prayer’

Olivia here. Last night was my first night alone in my new flat whilst my partner is away for Christmas. It was actually okay. I watched Eastenders, indulged in a skin-peelingly hot shower (I took full advantage of not having the share the hot water), and went to bed at a reasonable time. Tonight I will most likely do the same. I couldn’t do this for longer than a couple of weeks – without someone there to talk at, huddle up with, and generally annoy, time moves at a far more leisurely pace. For a while, its sort of nice, ‘now you can really relax‘ you say to yourself, as if the last five years of your life haven’t been spent sleeping the days away in student digs and moving from one part time job to another. You might indulge yourself, in alcohol, or chocolate, or expensive face masks, rationalising your laissez-faire attitude because you are on your own. The honeymoon faze quickly wanes. You begin to hear noises you never usually do – the man next door snoring, the whirr of the radiator, the sounds of bright young things having fun on the street below. You become slave to the moments in-between, the neither-here-nor-there minutes, hours, and days that are yours and yours alone. You’re too tired to work, there’s no one to talk to,  and you’re barely listening to the TV on in the background – is this what lonely people did before the internet? Is this my life until [insert name of companion] comes home? Am I even capable of being alone? Cue absolute identity panic. Yesterday I spoke about quiet introspection, and I may have oversold this as some kind of wonderful meditative transcendence, but the reality is that being forced to look deep into yourself can be really fucking scary. Someone who knows about the moments in-between is kitchen, moniker of bedroom artist Jame Keegan, whose latest track ‘november prayer‘ is a brooding hymn to the changing weather and changing moods. With a lo-fi hiss underpinning the track, Keegan’s understated and sometimes dissonant vocal is transformed into something transcendent by organ like drones that add sublime depth and texture. Unembellished piano adds to the melancholy feel and furthers the ‘cut and paste’/ DIY effect of the track. This is the kind of music that takes a few listens to understand, but once you get it, it will make your chest hurt in the best possible way. Some of the best music comes from lonely people in their bedrooms, and lets hope the same can be said of me one day.


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