Tuonela is staying anonymous for the time being – he feels a bit daggy as a suburban grandfather and is looking for a new reality. He’s become addicted to drone. Again. In the 60s, as a kid, he used to play his 45s on 16, or backwards, or by hand using razor blades as stylii. He was the kid with his head on the piano, listening to the overtones die away, or pressing his ear to the hull of the ferry, enthralled by the sounds it created. He was the kid who formed wordless songs to accompany the sound of train wheels on a long journey, or hummed along with the fan on a hot day. These tracks represent the lighter side of his work, and his nature.