Self destruction is a bit of a funny thing. You can be a rocket speeding along–ok, let’s be honest, for the chronically emotionally impaired you’re probably sputtering at best, but you’re moving!—and then you catch a whiff of a smell of a memory of a moment that bleeds you dry. And then, ‘blam-fucking-o’ there goes the ship in a cascading set of fireballs screaming for the Earth. You could have even ‘engineered your reality’, seeing all the reasons why escape was  necessary, if not yet a necessity to, like, survive at all in the thin air you’ve sucked out all the life from with your chaosfucking. But not all engineering is equal, you could have just been an expert electrical engineer, restarting the wiring of your heart   when what you really needed was a systems engineer, looking at your life as a cycle from birth to the eighteen shades of screwed you’ve crash landed into.

What’s the point of restarting your heart if you’re just going to careen it into danger? Not doing so: that’s self control, the opposite of everything you are.  ‘Self Control’ by pictureplane explores that idea over synths that do anything but simper. These synths brood; and with pride.  But outside of getting high off the fumes of your own discord in your spacesuit helmet, “Self Control” uses a masculine/feminine energy (in perhaps the most literal way that pictureplane has used this thematic for him by using Grace Hall on vocals) to balance impulsiveness with a tendency to wander in intuitive wastelands within  to create the way out. The way, to maybe, shoot that rocket out of the blackhole you instigated who knows how long ago.

Check out the video below:

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