Nothing feels as bad as the bad in which you stab your own flag, somehow jump reality’s rails and run in the shadows parallel to everyone else. You can hardly accept your own face as yours in the mirror. Nothing you loved is of any comfort anymore. Your head is empty, save for being mildly terrified for the entirety of the time you’re awake, and you find no respite at night. You realise that if things don’t change, your position among the living is untenable. The only hope you have is in knowing a diametrically opposing disposition once existed. Writing this, I’m reminded of once being incongruously perturbed by a deflating helium balloon bobbing ominously a couple of inches above the carpet, it’s residual static attracting cat hairs to its dulled and wrinkling skin. Gloom Balloon’s ‘You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Disaster/Fix The Sunshine Pts 1-7 (An Ode To Bill Doss)’, is an elegiac soundtrack to a sun-dappled nervous breakdown and showered a flourish of candy-coloured kisses upon my auditory cortex when I discovered it at the end of last year. In the dead confetti of early January, I solicited interviews with its three principal architects about the conception, aesthetic and assembly of the undetected Best Record of 2013.