Written, Performed, Produced & Mixed by Layla Rutherford.
“Mankind” and “Still” Co-produced by Dr. Sam Shepherd. Additional Mixing on “Seeds” by Donald Wolfram. Guitar on “Seeds” and “Origin” performed by Sunita Sagger. Mastered by John Dent (Loud). Art Direction & Design by Cleo Loxaire.
Photography by Packard Stevens. Hair & Make-Up by Christina Corway.
Thanks to the following people for their love and support:
Peter Rutherford, Dr. Sam Shepherd, Kabuki Snyder, Sunita Sagger, Cleo Loxaire, Tania Pedre, Donald Wolfram, Rahel Debebe-Dessalegne, David Phuong, Judah Afriyie, Steven Julien, Eric Lau, Bridgette Amofah, Yasushi Tanaka-Gútiez, Leo Taylor, Þorbjörn Kolbrúnarson and, last but not least, Earl Von Ramstag.
OFFICIAL MUSIC VIDEO FOR SEEDS
Directed and Edited by Tania Pedre Pereira (Black Lamb Collective)
The portrait faces both inward and out. At first it peers into the anthology of self, a collection of objects. Those that have been left behind, those that seek renewal towards uncompromising quiescence. The forces of then and the impending, can too often feel like the plaster of life, holding everything together. But imagine story were secondary to the unmoved mover that brought all into existence at the very beginning of time.
Climb into the abyss where time vanishes as we forget past, future, all at once.
The outward gaze is where the danger begins. Where the depths of the abyss are turned inside out, creating a mountain that the worshipful shall revere; where those who endured darkness within, now return as a triumphant second coming. Countless times we have seen human history as it deferred to those who in acknowledgement of death accepted the unacceptable; that destiny common to all living beings.
Words by Yasushi Tanaka-Gútiez
In acceptance of that fate they returned as übermensch, carrying with them the secrets of that seemingly fatal end. Yet far too many have taken its mantra as a way to further their futile, earthly being. Far too few have been messengers of why there is no mountain to climb, no abyss to descend, only the silence to endure.
In silence we finally find hymn. When the wailing of the childish mind feigns awakening, music will turn to ashes and become a protector of vanity. Those vibrations that sequentially combine
as harmony and disharmony were once a reminder of that which brings life as it beckons death. The power of hymn has been mistaken for a panacea of death, while death only lurks insofar that the desire is to prevent it. The time comes when the silence arrives and hymn ensues. And the portrait will tell, as it travels into that moment where inward faces out.