In my early twenties, I was sure Spat would be the album that provided me with a career in music.

I firmly believe that every artist starts out believing they’re owed the world. They’re then either proven right, beyond all probability (leaving them to endure a far more drawn out ego death experience later in life) or forced to learn how horribly wrong they are. In my case, Spat taught me the latter lesson. I never promoted it, I never networked to ensure people heard it, all I did was work slavishly on a personal statement of existential terror. I was certain that I was saying something new, and that was all that mattered.

Almost five years on, my perspective has shifted drastically. It’s somewhat over-wrought, and conceptually self indulgent. To assume anyone would be interested in this album as my initial artistic statement is entirely misguided. There are layers and layers of references that only I can ever know. Many of them I’ve forgotten. But my love for this work hasn’t faded. I’m proud of the ambition, much of the production quality, and the lyrics. Kallan feels like the best summation of how I saw myself at the time.