Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Shawn Biggs at Studio Paradiso, San Francisco, California
There's a level of the sky above which you are safe from the weather. Just shoot through that invisible ceiling and it's a different world. Nights are days and there are fewer clouds and no wind. There's still gravity and the ability to tumble right out of it, but the threat of turbulence is abated. You can just coast, ride it out minus the bumps and most of the bruises. The only way to be in that place, or that state, is while contained in an airplane, in a pressurized cabin, buckled into a narrow, uncomfortable seat with little to no leg room.
Norwegian band Highasakite gets us to a place where our extremities can feel that tingling and shimmering that comes from a suspension of rough air. We're just beasts floating. We can sense that we're seeing things through different eyes, smothered by a notion of time being tranquil for the moment. It can feel like we're out to get lost -- as if we could just walk out of the picture, going as far as we can go before we just disappear from sight altogether.