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Spencer Hoffman wasn't handling the pandemic well. He was grinding his teeth in his sleep, so much so that he cracked his molars and was only able to eat soft foods while dental surgeons were still on lockdown. A record deal had fallen apart when the pandemic hit. A beloved producer he wanted to work with kept avoiding him.

So he made the personal record that he always wanted to make, not concerned with whether or not there would be a world to receive it on the other side. The goal was to just keep his head on straight. He regressed to a sort of twin language, a way of speaking directly to himself as a form of comfort. He started recording new songs on a tape machine not just for the sound, but to escape the oppressive lights of the computer screen.

The resulting album, Apple Core, sounds nothing like the cold isolation of quarantine. Rather, the gorgeous melodies and literary references are a celebration of the togetherness of humanity. After completing an albums worth of songs, they found their way to Melina Duterte (Jay Som) through a mutual friend who went to work on mixing the album. “Melina and the community around me really championed the record and made me feel that it was worth pursuing and sharing,” says Spencer.

"All these pieces of the moon/ I can't carry them anymore" he sings in the opening track, and it sets off a rumination on all the ways our fractured self-image is thrown back at us. Hoffman is the steady hand on the tiller as we sail into turbid waters. The music has the sweet languid vibe of a Cass McCombs, Vetiver or Cotton Jones, with an added sharp literary sensibility culled from Mary Shelley and Ursula K. Le Guin. It's the kind of record you can put on and slip into like a bath.

Hoffman sings in "Song of Innocence" how he dreamed of experiencing a failure that was so obvious and definitive that he could accept letting go of his musical dreams forever. Fortunately, instead of letting go of that dream, he sailed us right into it.
-Nick Jaina