About Eli:
To: The Indie Street Cred Powers That Be From: Eli, musician, 24, female, blue eyes, looking.
My label said I need to have a bio if I want [redacted] to put me on Fresh Finds or [redacted] to give me a 7.8 on Pitchfork. To which you’re probably thinking, “wow. The label couldn’t even afford a PR person to write this bio?” and the answer is yes. Tough times at Zelig (but you didn’t hear that from me). Luckily, my debut album Stage Girl came out on Halloween before they closed the doors for good ⋆｡°✩ Stage Girl is what happens when you give a girl from the suburbs of Massachusetts too much Dunkin: a conceptual pop epic about reclaiming the fedora and childhood trauma through a fictional reality singing competition. My most formative moments with music were sitting on a beige Bernie and Phils carpet and voting for my favorite girls on singing competitions (#JusticeForHaileyReinhart). Amanda Overmyer was my Janis Joplin, Jessica Sanchez was my Whitney Houston. Seeing some random girl belt her heart out every Tuesday to Billy Crystal lit a fire in me so strong I started singing on the internet (so not that strong). I got a record deal from it, but they tried to make me be Justin Bieber, so I stopped This time though, I started posting everything; every demo, most thoughts, some selfies… I was throwing spaghetti at the wall. Do you like spaghetti?
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
“Sometimes you’ve got to express yourself because if you don’t you’ll explode,” says songwriter/producer Caroline Rose of their latest album, The Art of Forgetting. “…and I felt like I was going to explode.”
After a series of heartbreaking events, Rose had no desire to make a statement, let alone make a new album. It was a time of contemplation and transformation, a time to slow down. What transpired was what the artist considers a gradual union of reconnection and growth. Memory runs like a current throughout The Art of Forgetting. Prompted by a difficult breakup, Rose began a deep-dive inward, unknowingly digging up long-buried experiences from their childhood.
It’s a pivotal release for Rose teeming with raw, intense emotion and confessional honesty we’ve only caught glimpses of in Rose’s previous work. Layers of vocal arrangements from Balkan-influenced yawps to Gregorian autotune choirs, acoustic instrumentation chopped and mangled like a glitching memory, and dreamlike synths push and pull to create a hugely dynamic soundscape.
