​​TRICKSTER is split in two — on purpose.

The first half is loud, messy, and full of attitude. It doesn’t ask permission, it just takes up space. The synths are sharp, glitchy, bouncing off the walls like they’ve got something to prove. There’s tension in the rhythm — it feels like it’s constantly dodging a breakdown, but never actually losing control. It’s playful, but dangerous. Nothing sits still.

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Then something shifts.

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The same ideas — the same rhythm, the same energy — start to melt into something completely different. The second half doesn’t slow down, but it opens up. That chaos gets reworked into something strangely beautiful. Brighter synths take over, the harsh edges smooth out, and the whole track starts to breathe.

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It’s not a new idea — just a new perspective.

TRICKSTER uses the same pieces to show two sides of the same emotion. One’s manic. The other’s honest.

It’s a reminder that beauty and disorder aren’t opposites.
They’re usually just steps apart.