Identity as a fluid interstate, forever becoming, never being. Benzokai’s benzoid beats and haunting vocal delivery – at times adopting an animalistic, beastly form – are a dystopian paean. There are gentle melodies appearing and disappearing, always veiled in some anxious, disconcerting crackling, echoing sheen. Is this love? Black metal? You are metaphysically wrong. “Trends as well as online culture have an effect on me, in some way it drives the energy and attention away from the deeper concerns and wishes.”A projection of a mental desktop. Samara beach. “Emptiness is my fashion”. Void and devoid. Profound in its inversion.