One listen, and another where I just went in. Some active thinking here and there and still a sense of being broken up, but I think this one is better than the prior one. I might feel that way due to how soon after the previous one I wrote this. Continuation and all.

Shallow North Dakota’s “GJ” is from Auto Body Crusher.

I hope you enjoy.

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Percussive strikes, counting almost before percussion comes in in full. Echoing, distorted, claustrophobic. Slow, steady. Rumbling, almost. The space is empty and it is full, and the pattern plays out with a great unease. Ominous. It plays simple and powerfully, and plays out and along. It continues onward and perhaps its sense of being singular is oppressive. It changes in sudden shifts and remains monotonous and relentless.

The percussion shifts and shuffles and ripples in bright, muffled pools. It has nothing but itself and the silence that presses in around it. It drives forward and eternal, but it does not push on with energy, still. There is energy there, but it lumbers and lurches forward. It seems almost lacking, but it is full.

The percussion picks up and seems to speed up a little, too. More residual noise leaking off from the percussion fills the space between each strike, and the shape changes. The process changes, and maybe it’s breathing in a sense. Maybe it’s breathing and pushing on, and heaving and gaining pace. Gaining movement through the arc of each swing and strike, and falling like rain until one final strike that rings out until the song ends.