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A photo of a messy desk covered in musical instruments, dried plants, curios, and a diary of lyrics.

NEW: Nocturnes For Book Sluts

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Nocturnes For Book Sluts is a dark academia album of mellow piano nocturnes, composed as audio illustrations for the poetry collection Vanitas & Other Sticky Kitsch. Stream or download here or on Bandcamp.

Mocking Cricket Discography

A photo of Evvin Marin/Mocking Cricket standing with a fiddle.

Full Length Demo Album:
Phosphorus Lost

Mocking Cricket Phosphorus Lost album cover. A crow's claw holds a bunch of lit matches below a sprig of white bleeding heart and a branch covered in phosphorescent fungi with a lunar eclipse in the background.

Phosphorus Lost is an album inspired by proto-punk and the 1970's cultural underground, but set in a 2020's, soft-apocalyptic, feral, dreamscape, synth-folk Underground. So you're standing on the corner, waiting for the man, but the corner lies somewhere between a cheap theatre back-alley and a haunted woods, and who knows what unruly mischief your man's up to? Out now on Bandcamp. Your album purchase includes a bonus, 39-page ebook of lyrics, essays, and original artwork.

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What's the value of a penny anymore within a world of many double-jawed and slipping, hidden, moray-hearted morals? Hey Mister, can you lend me better wisdom, or a token for the ferry?​​

Mocking Cricket What Happens Come Dusk album cover. A cricket and a crow skull in meadow brush below a full moon.

What Happens Come Dusk is a demo EP of spooky, late-night songs recorded in GarageBand in 2020, before I had access to proper tech. It's mellow, with a homespun charm. We'll revisit some of these tunes in future projects.

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Your download, should you procure one, includes PDF liner notes with full lyrics and original photography and artwork.

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"Ain't We Got Fun" music by Richard A. Whiting, lyrics by Raymond B. Egan & Gus Kahn, 1921. Rearranged in A minor with synth by yours truly. All the other tracks are original.

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Then the dawn's paintbox blush brushes glorious things!

Is it any surprise how the light-mongers cling

To the bright cream of life, simulacra of winning,

And sweet, soma pretense what happens come dusk

Is not happening?

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