A dear friend once told me that I have an ambitious sense of time. Yes, it's true. I have been known to approach a day or a week with the hope of doing and being (too) many things. 

It’s also true that sometimes I feel stuck in a slow groove. The minutes and hours fly by as though some invisible and industrious hand were vacuuming the clock face and I stare incredulous, and wonder where the time went. 

Sometimes, falling out of sync with the clock & calendar contingent is a most welcome feeling – sometimes it opens a window to other timescapes. 

More often than not, when I’m in a slow groove, I feel out of sorts – wishing to seize my life remote and just skip to the end of the day already and go to bed, so I can what? … start tomorrow off on the right foot of course and get more done. Ay, ay, ay! 

I’ve been sitting with these feelings a lot in the last couple of years – thanks in no small part to the seismic shifts of pandemic and parent life, but also to a general feeling of precipice in this moment and a desire to reckon with a different order of time. 

One idea has remained steady throughout these ruminatings : let’s slow down. 

Along an adjacent line of thought – sharing music live, in person, and away from home is one of our greatest joys as a band. We love touring. And yet, when we spent nearly six months of the year on tour in 2019, we felt a gnawing disconnect from our home & community. 

Since then, Alex and I have been brainstorming how we might embrace slowness in our art practice and have settled for now on trying to move more slowly and be more present while on the road. 

Recently, this took shape in a very special group paddling and songwriting residency led by the wonderful and ever-prepared Kate Weekes, and the somewhat stealth release of our new song, Time Past Time. (Interneting and paddling are not precisely compatible.) 

We’re wishing you all a restorative New Moon. May you all sleep deeply under an inky sky. 

xo Kait