So can I be you, instead of just be me? AirLands. Connecting into the sadness. Overly honest and hopeful. Five Humans. Harmonies. Soaring French horn. No guitar riffs, something less angular, more crystallized. Lyrics phoned in off of lost letters from deep black space. A cello. Acoustics. If Redwoods were drums and moonlight were mallets. Arriving slowly, only to leave again. Never the same twice. That makes sense, right?