Orchestral arrangements and lo-fi intimacy are my love language—give me chamber pop sophistication wrapped in indie melancholy and I'm home. I float between vintage Cliff Richard nostalgia and Arctic Monkeys' angular poetry, equally comfortable with Arcade Fire's baroque maximalism and the haunting minimalism of Perfume Genius. There's something about artists who treat production like another instrument that gets me; Patrick Watson's arrangements, Laura Marling's raw vulnerability, TV On The Radio's experimental soul—they all speak to someone trying to find beauty in complexity. Sometimes I'm dancing to Usher at 2am, sometimes I'm deep in Old Gods of Appalachia folklore, sometimes I'm just letting Sleeping At Last remind me that everything connects. I collect moments the way others collect things.