However, every second spent in this virtual garden of Eden eats away at our precious time, causing a whirlwind of emotion as we emerge from our lair and notice changes in the outside world.

Each short composition in this 5-track release is limited to 1 minute in length, but there is a sense that these unfolding symmetrical formulae continue on into infinity, even after the recording stops.

These feelings mark the absolute horizon of human frustration, as vain as screaming in agony at the limitations of gravity, and we must continue screaming until the clouds of grief clear and we bury those perfect memories forever.

These overbearing vocals beg us for validation, screaming out from a depressive void that yearns for love and refuses to look inward to find it.

The new psychedelic album The Cool Cloud of Okayness by Tara Jane O’Neil brings this narrative to life, telling the story of an artist who lost their home to a fire right as the pandemic caught the world in its vice grip.

These playful tracks inspire janky and disjointed movement, with crunchy chords, wailing feedback, and discordant counterpoints fighting a tight rhythm section for control over our bodies.

Harsh industrial beats amplify sinful chants, followed by deadpan storytelling segments that adorn a room constructed of dissonant guitars and electronics, all pointing to an intense desire to violate any traditions of the religion that comprises the speaker’s childhood scar tissue.

However, unlike other albums in this genre, the record wraps up on a satisfying note, denoting that our speaker has begun the work of addressing subconsious trauma and finding inner peace, supplying hope for all those who resonate with the middle part of this album's more pessimistic messaging.

Honoring Lord Spikeheart’s great-grandmother, a war hero in the Kenyan struggle for independence, each track brings in new sounds and new collaborators to unlock further outlets for communicating the same core of anger and disgust at a deep history of injustice.

Taking this philosophy by the reins, the new record Total Reality by Aussie electropunks Dr. Sure's Unusual Practice doesn’t so much wallow in the quagmire of late-stage capitalism, as it catches the waves and surfs into a current of fun-loving absurdist nihilism. 

Relishing in this chaos, Real Home by Kiran Leonard takes a kite out and plays in the gale of time, dancing wildly and energetically even in its most pensive moments.

Misanthropy drips off the blade of metallic riffs, explosive percussion, and powerful vocals, sending us on this expedition with Couch Slut to survey the damage wrought by the wildest and unholiest of desires.

Rarely do we see a band that can create a cohesive sound out of a freeform structure, landing hits and riffs in unexpected places but subconsciously communicating with each other so clearly that even the most unsteady moments still make musical sense.

Taking a page from the realm of Quantum physics, Field Theory imagines complex interpersonal relationships as a web of subatomic particles in constant shift, each individual action causing a ripple effect that is experienced by the whole.

A new alternative pop record called Aporia by Sissi Rada investigates our struggle to create ourselves, sonically stitching together poems about random, disconnected life experiences to turn them into a narrative.

Under the watchful eye of time the project is eerily subtle, led by warm, intimate vocals that shift on a dime from angelic to intense.

The visceral feeling of dialectic breakdown is explored on the new experimental record "I wish I was special" by Guests. By layering cut-up samples, delicate electronica, and repetitive lyrics, Guests constructs disjointed semantics that echo with aching familiarity.

Though many of the sounds and aesthetics repeat across the album, chaotic and traumatic events in the world and community get spoken about on the album in increasingly hushed tones, losing their shock value as entropy spreads like a plague, serving as the only constant force pushing time forward.

Disturbed by the blood and flesh of the world and uncomforted by God, the speaker leaves us with a bleak acknowledgement of the continuing of this repetitive hell, leaving us no recourse but to join in their screams of agony.

Much like James Joyce’s Ulysses follows Leopold Bloom through the city of Dublin as he interacts with the eccentric townspeople of Dublin, the avant garde record Harbour Century by Eunuchs is a multifaceted stream-of-consciousness exposition of the various ne'er-do-wells, criminals, and addicts of Sydney Harbour.