PHANTOM SOUNDS
The True Story: This album documents a relationship falling apart in real-time while I was writing it. I felt unheard, so I made her everything, which meant not being heard felt like the end of the world. I turned to psychology and philosophy for answers, started growing weed and writing songs to express myself. Each track responds to the previous track’s failure: therapy speak didn’t work, so I tried directness. Then I realized even directness might be manipulation, so I called that out too.
The Final Test: Track 12 is me talking to her while she’s in the other room, the opening image come full circle. It’s buried in a complicated concept album, exactly where I knew she wouldn’t look. Am I being honest, or am I testing if she’ll finally listen this time? Is it fair to make it this hard? I don’t know. Maybe that’s the point.
How to Listen: In order, all the way through. Track 12 only makes sense after you’ve been through the journey.
The Structure:
- Tracks 1-4: We’re not connecting and it hurts (“Why do I say things when you’re in the other room?”)
- Tracks 5-8: Maybe psychology can help, I’ll grow for her, do shadow work, understand our differences
- Track 9: Wait, the therapy speak is just more avoidance. “Is there a better deal?” (Yes: just say it directly)
- Track 10-11: Clear communication: “I think you’re brilliant, why don’t I say it?” / “It doesn’t have to have a happy ending” (Track 11 ends with “play it again from the top”, trying to loop you back before you reach Track 12)
- Track 12: Back in the other room. “I know you don’t listen to full albums”, the album admits it hid this where you probably won’t find it. Am I being honest about manipulation, or is honesty my final manipulation?
Key Details:
- Track 1 opens with talking to someone in the other room who can’t hear you
- Track 12 is literally me in the other room again, talking where she won’t hear, through a concept album she won’t finish
- “Token on flowers” (inadequate gesture) → “I’m growing weed” (taking charge of my own growth)
- The “God arc”: making her everything → recognizing that’s unhealthy → taking my power back
- Track 11 ends with “play it again from the top”, the album wants you to loop back without reaching Track 12
- Track 12: “I know you don’t listen to full albums”, I hid this where I knew she wouldn’t find it… or am I testing if she’ll really listen this time?
The Central Question: If you keep catching yourself being manipulative and call it out, does that make you honest or just more sophisticated at manipulation? Is there even a difference? Can you create a loyalty test and have it be fair when you deliberately made it nearly impossible to pass?
What Really Happened: I set out to write a concept album, it’s been my dream for decades. I tried to connect each song and be honest about what I was going through, but I kept noticing my own bullshit and adding more tracks to acknowledge it. I realized mid-writing that psychology was avoidance (Track 9), that directness might still be strategic (Track 11), so I admitted that (Track 12). Whether admitting manipulation is itself manipulation… I genuinely don’t know. All human interaction might be manipulation. Track 12 is my best attempt at transparency, hidden in the one place she won’t look, which might prove I’m still manipulating, or it might prove she never really listened.
The Album’s Architecture: The opening problem (talking to someone in another room who can’t hear you) becomes the structural reality of the album itself. Track 12 is literally me in the other room again, speaking where she won’t hear me, buried in a full concept album exactly where someone who “doesn’t listen to full albums” won’t reach it. The album performs the relationship’s central problem: I’m saying something, but positioning it where it won’t be heard. Is that honesty or a test? Both? Neither?
Bottom Line: It’s a breakup album that works emotionally without understanding any of this. It’s also documentation of someone trying every tool they have, emotion, intellect, psychology, art, and still ending up in the other room, unsure if they’re being heard. You can cry to it, or you can sit with the uncomfortable possibility that all communication is strategic and the best we can do is be transparent about that strategy. The album couldn’t answer whether transparency absolves manipulation, so it left the question open, in Track 12, where you might not even find it.