Marcus Eoin & Michael Sandison
The Reclusive Brothers of Haze and Memory
We don’t make music—we remember it.
Marcus and I don’t perform—we disappear. Our machines are old, our samples older. We don’t chase the future; we sift through the residue of the past to find its pulse. You’ll know the sound, even if you don’t know the name. It’s the crackle of something half-remembered, the warmth of a signal gone soft at the edges. We’re not hiding. We just never left the hills.
What I'm Into: dusty VHS tapes, forgotten field recordings, melodies from broken machines, the static between stations, Scottish mist at dusk
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