Page Not Found On an overcast January day in the Brooklyn neighborhood of Bushwick, hendrix the snow is piled in mountains hendrix stained help and the sidewalks are caked in i want to write an essay about myself in sinhala slicks of ice, we sit on a couch in his unadorned apartment for an hunter and a half, mostly talking about his personal history.
This isn't our first conversation about religion: a year ago, when we met up to discuss the latest Liturgy albumhe told me that in our "fractured and confusing time" it can be hard to consider religion—or any of society's longheld narratives—with any degree of seriousness.
Composing music with a pencil is really time-consuming; you have to break yourself to learn how to do it. Each member moves at his own pace throughout the space, bumping into one another from time to time.
The second diagram surrounds a shape that suggests the directional pad of a Super Nintendo controller with a triangle made of arrows—philosophy feeds into art, which feeds into music, which feeds back into philosophy, ad infinitum. Watching them interact in this context, I begin to understand why no one member of Liturgy is content to let anyone else speak for the entire band: They each have distinct personalities, which are elicited—and perhaps exaggerated—by the extreme conditions of the surrounding furnaces and faucets.
Sitting on the patio of Williamsburg bar and rock club Union Pool as the winter wind whips a temporary plastic roof overhead, he speaks of tea, being Jewish, and reading the new-age bible Prometheus Rising.
He does know, at least, that he had too much to drink.