Without giving too much away, this is the recurring motif of the album. It's the stream that gives it life. It's a beast of a song that at times threatened to drown us. At times there seems like no way out, at times it feels like we know the way out. Whichever way you feel, we came out stronger swimmers because of this song.
We started this song with our longtime bud and co-producer of this album who was cat sitting above his friends cafe in Melbourne. It started as a piano epic until Ben came up from downstairs, jacked from mainlining free coffees and took to his guitar.
'He set up his sail / and ripped it back down / just to see if his life had a meaning' just like the monks with their temples. Creation and destruction walk hand in hand in this song. It's a rare somewhat lineal story for us and it takes you to that other place that we often go to, especially when playing live.
There's a brutality to 'wasting time' that goes unsaid. The kick and the snare lash continuously as the lyric yearns for certainty 'I can only see so far into the future/I can only see so far into the haze'. The song in itself is an exorcism of illusion, cut mostly live in a converted tractor shed on NSW's south coast where a lot of the record came together.
We didn't have much when we lived in London. A mattress on the floor, poetry on our lips, fire on our fingertips. We did have a small studio crammed with instruments. On break we'd visit the park and watch a bit of baseball, or go for a pint at the local. Something primordial came out in that tiny space. Ben took to the drums for the first time in our writing sessions. 'Russian' was born.
Ben played the riff, Jordan sang the lyric. It happened quick and we caught it.
A street sign uprooted, a TV smashed in the stairwell of the Hibernian House, the 'battle of the night' goes on and on with nothing to find and certainly nothing to lose.
This is what happens when you try to describe the journey of consciousness, put three trippers in a room, find an amazing guitar sound and don't let time nor space/truth nor fiction get in the way.