Salema Cardumen

It comes back to seize me. That sensation that clamps itself around the viscera, while simultaneously spawning kaleidoscopic dragonfly-thoughts in the gray matter—thoughts that bloom into a wild, untamed matrix of beauty, unruly and unrestrained. A full-body contraction in the face of an avalanche of euphoric feedback, collapsing the self into something porous, trembling, barely distinguishable from sound itself. A paradoxical feeling of levitation through unruly, fantastical skies, ten thousand miles above a world already deranged beyond recognition—while still being nailed to the ground, hammered by impossible sonics, by rhythmic architectures of staggering precision, by heaviness transfigured into voluptuous grace. Yes. Camellia Rose Tree are back. With force. With their brilliance untouched. There is nothing quite like this.