Twins & the Crab

Twins & the Crab is, currently, a fictional band I've created. It's also the name of their first, only, last, self-titled album. What's always interested me more than music are the musicians who create it; their backgrounds, their intermingle with other musicians, the context of their music, the city they're from, their location, the "scene" they were born out of, their inspirations, their creative process. Interviews with musicians I like, or podcasts where they talk about their processes are absolutely fascinating to me.

God is said to have created something out of nothing. Like this idea of god, musicians, artists, and engineers can create inventions and art seemingly out of thin air. That's not entirely true though, because artists are not gods, afterall. Artists and engineers have a millennia of prior human knowledge to build upon and be inspired by. The key takeaway is that no art is entirely original, and perhaps even on a subconscious level everything we make or write or say has been seen by us before, only improved. Listening to an artist talk about their process is like watching a god explain creation. Even more interesting, it seems like not everyone can be an artist. More so, not every artist can be a good artist, whatever that means.

That was a pretty loft aside, but what I'm trying to get at is I don't see myself as Twins & the Crab. I don't see it as a pseudonym more than I see it as an ideal to try and reach. I do not have the capacity to create music that can match what I've imagined this album to sound like. There's also no other album I've listened to that sounds like this one. But of course, no art is original. Hopefully at some point in the future I do obtain the musical capacity to attempt its creation, but it's entirely possible that this pursuit is a pursuit of knowledge with no end. I'm alright with that; to endlessly pursue something without ever reaching it. Perhaps the album is that in itself; the nebulae of Experience, of knowledge, a culmination of all the Art I like. Maybe it's never meant to be recorded, only chased.

This idea started in 2014 because I attempted to record a lot of different stuff and shove it into a bandcamp album under the same name. It goes without saying this new rendition is nothing like the original. It's possible that I might make many copies with the same album art and name within my lifetime, keeping only the parts I like until a final version is left. Similar to a code base with version control. I keep a note on my phone with a list of song titles and their descriptions. In my day-to-day life, words jump out at me and I say to myself "that would be a really cool song name" and they go into the list. Some songs have structure and lyrics already, some only have a single sample, others have no definite plans yet.

It's difficult to try and explain what it sounds like since there's really no clear picture yet, just small pieces of music so far. What I'm eventually aiming for is an album that starts off really light-hearted; think indie, synth, pop, singer-songwriter; but as the album progresses the songs get more esoteric. In the middle, say for example Year of Dog, I imagine it to use lots of layered acoustic instruments something similar to Grizzly Bear's Yellow House. I am also toying with the idea of keeping a melody or lyric repeated sporadically throughout the album to keep it whole. Oyasumi is going to be a soul-destroying psych metal track paying homage to fictional character Punpun Onadera's suffering.

  1. Birthday
  2. Stripes
  3. Day High
  4. Hey Palmer
  5. Lefty
  6. Ocarina
  7. Year of Dog
  8. July
  9. Nun of ur crab
  10. ‎In Thought
  11. ‎East
  12. Ribcage
  13. Tourniquet
  14. Angel Hologram
  15. Records
  16. Oyasumi
I can spout song titles and musical genres all day, but nothing really matters unless its recorded, right? For now, this is a pleasant dream I've been having since 2014. It's something that keeps me going.