Drunk Elephant Sound presents HNGVR Sessions, Crate 1: Waking up he remembered suddenly and gratefully that the elephant, drunk as it was, had given no trouble as he ushered it back into its enclosure. Throwing a crate of African Fermented Fruit Vodka in afer it, he had watched as it put on a gigantic pair of headphones, turned up the bass and promptly fell asleep. On the way to the studio, he noticed the sky was clear and the morning sun, though bright, had not yet burnt away the chill from the day. He could hear the elehant snoring, a deep bass thrumm that rose and fell and he began to weave strands of noise, snatches of voices and slivers of music deftly into the sound, creating a hangover full of dreams.
A cold shower in the winter, ice in a frosted glass.
