I make music for nameless, utilitarian brands of speakers, or the stock ones that came with your e-machine from 1999, with the elastic felt-like cone covers.

I like for it to sound thin, or muddy, or muffled, or tinny, and only sometimes lush and expansive.

Most importantly, I try to make tracks that are still listenable after the digital apocalypse, when you live in a cabin with boards on some of the windows, and you eat canned beans and watch the red sun set over the toxic lake, and you think about the people in the space colonies, and how their rations are probably being stretched thin, while you, with your never ending supply of baked beans, ranch style beans, vegetarian chili beans, and black eyed peas, sit back and listen to my music.

But they're up there listening to it too, and they couldn't be happier with a packet of freeze dried snowberries in the morning.