Horace Moon is a musician from the Seattle Area, or at least that’s what he’s been telling himself having lived there since the mid-1990s. He writes and records songs about the emotions and memories of feeling like you are not quite a part of this world. The songs usually keep building, like a fractured story that can only make sense when and if you get to the end. The voice is layered, it’s like he thought maybe one of the parts will be right, but he’ll never know, because only the listener can decide to accept or reject it.

There has been a lot of rejection letters over the years, and now here he is again out there in the middle of all the other endless digital echoes. The music is languid and sounds like it was made in the hours between twilight and dawn, because it was.