Tone Glow 152: Neptunian Maximalism
An interview with the Belgian metal band about the art of improvisation, appropriation vs. appreciation, and the links between psychedelic rock, drone metal, and Indian classical music.
Neptunian Maximalism
Neptunian Maximalism is a Brussels-based band spearheaded by multi-instrumentalist, vocalist, composer, and producer Guillaume Cazalet (b. 1988). Born and raised in southern France, Cazalet has played in a number of heavy and experimental projects, including CZLT, Ôros Kaù, ZAÄAR, and Jenny Torse. He’s also an accomplished painter and graphic designer, and runs the label Homo Sensibilis Sounds.
In 2018, Cazalet launched Neptunian Maximalism with saxophonist Jean-Jacques Duerinckx, and drummers Sébastien Schmit and Pierre Arese to explore the intersections of cosmic free jazz, psychedelic rock, and drone metal. After releasing their debut mini-album, 2018’s The Conference of the Stars, they recorded their debut full-length, Éons, a meditation on the evolution of species and an imagined posthuman future where Earth is ruled by elephants of superior intellect. The following year, the ensemble expanded to include bassist Reshma Goolamy, guitarist Romain Martini, electric saz player Joaqun Bermudez, synthesist Alice Theil and soundscape artist Didié Nietzsche, percussionist Lucas Bouchenot and new drummer Stehane Fedele. In March 2020, the group recorded a dark psychedelic live record, Solar Drone Ceremony at Magasin 4 in Brussels. Days later, the city was in lockdown, and the future looked uncertain.
In the meantime, Neptunian Maxmialism signed with Italy’s I, Voidhanger Recordings for the June 2020 release of Éons. Though Cazalet originally envisioned the material as a trilogy, at the label’s suggestion, the band put it out as a single, very long playing album. The gargantuan, otherworldly heavy sounds immediately generated a buzz, particularly among metal and psych fans, and quickly sold out its initial pressing. In April 2021, the band was invited to Tilburg, Netherlands to take part in Roadburn Redux—a pandemic-era virtual version of the esteemed Roadburn Festival, where they presented music from Éons and Solar Drone Ceremony, the latter of which was released the same month.
Fast forward to April 20, 2024, and Neptunian Maximalism returned to Roadburn with new drummer Rob Martin to perform their upcoming album, Le Sacre du Soleil Invaincu. Slated for release this fall, the record incorporates influences and textures from Indian classical music, which Cazalet has been diligently studying since lockdown. Jamie Ludwig met Cazalet, Martini, and Goolamy just after their arrival in Tilburg to learn more about the band’s musical approach and evolution.
Jamie Ludwig: Can you tell me a little about your musical journey and how you found an interest in improv?
Guillaume Cazalet: I’ve practiced improvised music since 2011 with my cousin, who was the first drummer of Neptunian. We were just self-taught. At some point I met Jean-Jacques [Duerinckx], the saxophonist of Neptunian, who proposed that I come into what he called Lab'OMFI for free improvisation, which was a meeting every month for people to make improvised music. That was the beginning of the journey. At some point, I proposed to some people from there—Jean-Jacques, my cousins Pierre [Arese] and Sébastien [Schmit], the drummers—to start a residency about free improvisation together. It started like this, basically. It wasn’t really planned as a band—it was just this session. I recorded it, and then I realized there was some good material. So I edited it, and then it grew as a project.
Reshma Goolamy: During the first lockdown, Guillaume started to promote the album. He sent it to a lot of labels. So we signed to [I, Voidhanger], and then he wanted to find a new lineup to do it live.
Guillaume Cazalet: We started to play together before the release of Éons. There were a lot of layers I did in post-production—overdubs and stuff—and at some point I was like, “Okay, now I need enough people to interpret all those layers.” So I tried to find some people and build this team. We did a few gigs, then Éons was released. And then lockdown.
Romain Martini: Which, weirdly enough, was really nice for us because suddenly people had plenty of time to dive into a 2-hour 30-minute long, really niche music piece. It was supposed to stay in the cave of Spotify, but weirdly enough, it got some traction during this moment.
Guillaume Cazalet: Just before the lockdown, we did a show at [Brussels venue] Magasin 4.
Reshma Goolamy: Just two days before.
Guillaume Cazalet: We had planned to record it, so just after Éons was released, I started to work on this live album, Solar Drone Ceremony. One year later, that was released too. But it’s so messy. Many things happened in a short time with the lockdown situation—at some point you release this album but you don’t play live. After that, we came to Roadburn Redux.
Romain Martini: Which was our luck. It gave us an incredible push—I think we ended up playing in front of more people [in the virtual festival format] than if we would’ve played on the real stage. From there, we played many gigs and did a small tour. We had a stable lineup for a while, but lately there have been a few changes. We’ve tried a different lineup. Guillaume got deeper into Indian music, and so we’ve tried to work differently.
To take a step back to the foundations of the group, psychedelic music, improv, and spiritual music have a long history that go hand in hand. Even though there’s a lot of psychedelic metal out there, the improv aspect and the spiritual aspects are more unusual. How did that all come together for you?
Reshma Goolamy: What is good in the improv scene, and the basis of spirituality—as we see it—is the intuition and the T time (You know, the T time, not the tea time?), knowing how to be rooted to a precise timing [in the present]. In shamanic music as well, there’s this idea of repetition and trance that gets into the psychedelic stuff. This is one true inspiration for me—I only speak for myself, but I see intuition as the basis of things.
Guillaume Cazalet: But we agree on this point. I think you can really find some spiritual process or spiritual culture that can be based a lot on intuition. Maybe not in larger religions, but in small cults—Paganism and stuff like that—this is a big part of it. The relationship you have with the environment will be based on intuition at some point.
Romain Martini: There’s a natural bridge to be made between improv and spirituality, because spirituality… I mean, okay, there are books about it, but it’s mostly about an inner trip you’re going through, and there is this real organic thing that doesn’t evolve in a necessarily planned way. So I think there’s a big connection between both of these worlds. If you were writing music on music sheets, like guitar pros and stuff, you could make spiritual sounding music, but you would lose these very specific elements, which is organicity and complete spontaneity. And I think that’s what Guillaume is trying to really dig into and explore.
Guillaume Cazalet: Improvised music can have something to do with free writing or automatic writing. It can also be related to surrealism movements, in a way. So that’s a part I really love, too. Also, this relation with spirituality can be based on you as a channel, as an antenna. You can, in a way, turn your mind off and just let the energy pass through you.
Indian classical music, which I have learned, is also based a lot on improvisation, but it’s not the sort of free improvisation jazz bands can do, because it’s not totally free. It’s under certain rules and knowledge and history. But all these rules are just tools, and when you have those tools you are free to express yourself. And this is the most spiritual aspect of letting God speak through you in a way, or just being in a trance and letting go.
I read an interview where you described the band as a cross between Sunn O))) and Sun Ra. When I think of Sun Ra, I think of how he created his own religion or spirituality of sorts. Is that something you aim to do as Neptunian Maximalism, or is it more of a framework?
Guillaume Cazalet: We don’t really do that—we are still just doing music.
Romain Martini: We are fairly grounded people. I mean, there is a slight difference between us obviously, but we’re not about to create a cult. I don’t know, for [Guillaume]—give him ten years and I don’t know (laughter). I think we use everything we have as a big breath of fresh air to try to remove ourselves from the Occidental bias we might have in music and how we conceive of all these things, and try to explore new sounds and new ways of doing music. It’s not entirely new—we’re not revolutionizing anything—but at the scale of metal, or whatever progressive, spiritual metal can be, we’re trying to really break some rules and do our own thing. And of course, the imagery is really important. It’s grounded in a lot of inspiration straight from Guillaume, because he’s the one who’s doing all the digging. But it’s more laid back—it’s more music and emotion than a cult.
Reshma Goolamy: We have to tiptoe into that.
Romain Martini: We don’t want to appropriate anything, or use symbols and stuff that aren’t ours. We want to be able to use them as a way to convey emotions and stuff, but not to disguise ourselves.
Reshma Goolamy: And to be able to, as artists, have this kind of flexibility and fluidity and everything. I think if we were to pretend to be a religion or cult, people would expect something specific from us at some point. So, maybe it’s dangerous to go there.
Guillaume Cazalet: Actually, that’s still a question for me. If we compare with Sun Ra, there’s many different things because of their roots and their era. We are in a different world now. They had something to say because of their roots, and because of their situation in their society and in that era that made sense. In my position, I don’t know if this kind of approach makes sense. I’m a white guy from France in Europe. So, my roots are more like rationalism from France and stuff like that. But at the same time, I’m trying now to rediscover my older roots, which are more related to the Occitania region and Occitan language. I will see, when I will discover more about this, how it turns and how I will take it into my life.
So that’s one point. On the other point, I join Reshma and Romain: I’m too afraid to lie to people, and sometimes I just take my distance with the idea of religion. We have some kind of spiritual or magical practice, but I don’t know if it has something to do with religion. As Reshma said, at some point people will want answers or something, and it’s a lot of responsibility. I’m not sure I want to be involved in that way. Also, in the world we live in, there are so many lies, in my point of view, so I want to be super sure of what I say. At the beginning, it might have looked like that with Neptunian, but at some point I realized what we are exactly: We’re musicians. It’s not a church here—it’s about people who perform music on a stage.
Many bands will say something like, “We are doing a ritual.” At some point I’m like, “Yeah, but no.” When you know what a real ritual is, actually, it’s not just because you do something every day…. We’re just performing into an industrial complex of the industry of music, which is quite capitalistic, actually. So, I’m not sure that is a good place for pretending or presenting something in terms of [a ritual], but I agree the music itself can be an experience—a deep experience.
A lot of stuff you’ve written about the records or performances is very much this subversive anti-capitalist thing that kind of pokes fun at the industry of music. By having the collective approach or working outside of the typical conventions of the music industry—like releasing this triple album during the pandemic—is that what you’re doing?
Romain Martini: It is not very intentional. It’s a product of what we do—it couldn’t be otherwise.
Guillaume Cazalet: It wasn’t intentional, speaking about the industry or something. What was intentional is, “Okay, this piece of art needs this time and length. This artwork for the layout needs this, because I have the intuition that it needs this and not something else.”
So, I just fight to do it, because I feel that’s what this piece of art needs to be complete. For example, with Éons, I planned to release three albums, one after another. Like, “We can cover three years, and that’s pretty fun—we’ll have time to work on something else.” Finally, the label proposed to release all three in one. I was like, “Okay, you’re the professionals. Why not? That could be huge.” I didn’t expect that. But why not? It was a good idea, actually.
Romain Martini: But it’s true that the medium, the format of the music we do, the setup of the lineup, the fact that we chose for a while to be like nine or eight people on stage—nothing is made to be functional and efficient by today’s standards when it comes to making music and making it work. But we never really thought about that in this way. It was always full-on “go big or go home.” Nowadays, I’d say that we are a little bit more rational because of technicalities—moving eight people around is super limiting. We had tours getting canceled because we couldn’t find venues that were big enough, given the size of our band, which is still small and not super famous.
Guillaume Cazalet: For promoters it’s quite risky.
Romain Martini: You have to pay more people. You cannot ask the classic, “Okay, we’ll go with €400.” No, it needs to be a bit more, because we had professional musicians with us. So it was a bit of a mess. We managed to do a tour, which went really, really well against all odds…. Even with eight people on that first tour, we managed to make more money [than we anticipated], and we all made money. It was crazy.
Guillaume Cazalet: We played super, extremely small places for us. But people went crazy. The energy was awesome—we all enjoyed it.
Romain Martini: It confirmed for us that there was something to dig, but it was still a reality check that eight is too much. So we had to make some decisions, and rationalize the whole thing a little bit. So now we are six.
Guillaume Cazalet: With a new proposition too. And also when you have a lot of members with different ages and stuff, everyone can have his own issues with life and stuff.
Romain Martini: Yes, because we are also a multigenerational band. The youngest was 20 or 25 when we started.
Reshma Goolamy: Who, me? I was 27. Now I’m 31.
Romain Martini: So yeah, from 27 through 60.
That’s something you see a lot in jazz collaborations, but you don’t see very often in rock.
Guillaume Cazalet: Not so much.
Releasing Éons on a metal label, what kind of response did you get from people who weren’t familiar with improv or psychedelic music? Were they just like, “What the hell is this?”
Guillaume Cazalet: It was a bit like this, but there were many different reactions.
Romain Martini: I think we reached such a wide range of people. There would be three different kinds of reactions. The jazzhead will listen to our stuff, and also think it’s kind of weird. It’s really dark. And the metalheads, the same.
Guillaume Cazalet: Yeah, but it depends. There were also some comments like, “Oh yeah, it’s like a copy of Electric Masada from John Zorn.” I’d never listened to this album before. It’s a crazy one. True. But I don’t really see the connection… there’s no downtuned, doom-drone, or fuzzy droney guitar ingredient in it. So I didn’t understand that. But there were many, many interpretations of what we did. Bad ones, nice ones, everything was fun. Even one super, super bad one.
Reshma Goolamy: We don’t have a lot of people who say “What the fuck?” in the wrong way.
Romain Martini: It’s more that people are surprised, like, “What the fuck?” in a nice way. “I wasn’t expecting that. I’m not even sure what I’m listening to, but I kind of like it.” I think it means that we are doing something right, because that’s also what we are trying to do: Taking people by surprise and exposing them to something they don’t really know.
It’s fun to listen to it and go, “Oh, here’s a little of this. Here’s a little of that.” As the person with the main vision, what has it been like to see it realized?
Guillaume Cazalet: The improvisation part of the album on Éons, for example, depends on the musicians who are there. So if you have those four people, you have those four identities, and that will make the recipe; those are the ingredients. But also it’ll depend on the gear we choose to bring. So I’ll choose to bring this kind of amp and pedals, and Jean-Jacques will choose to bring the baritone saxophone. So there was a kind of pre-setup. The choice of instruments—high pitch, low pitch—changes the music.
I also chose people with a certain idea, because I knew what they do. After that, it was free. I wasn’t saying, “Hey, can you play this or that?” But then I took the recordings of that session and I did the editing, with many overdubs and arrangements. I also managed the direction and the finishing. Sometimes the finishing can take everything into a certain direction. If you add some vocals, the style of those vocals will obviously [shape things]. For example, if we’re signed to a metal label, maybe the vocals and guitar have something to do with this. If it had Magma vocals, it would obviously be more jazz related.
After that, when I reached out to new people for the band, I had to take care to keep a kind of authenticity, but also find the balance. And now—because we are using some Indian classical music rules in the music—everyone has more and more freedom and independence. We know we have these basic rules, which can be like a frame, but in this frame, you know your rights and you can do what you want to do.
Romain Martini: I think it’s an interesting point that, just as there was a huge age gap between the members, there was also a huge musical experience gap, per se. For people like me and Reshma, we are like newbies. I learned to play the guitar at 25. I was a bedroom player for a long-ass time, and this is actually my first band. I think it’s the same for her.
Reshma Goolamy: I started the bass for this band.
Guillaume Cazalet: I showed her how to use the fingers on the bass.
Romain Martini: There is this huge learning curve that also explains why our first live [shows] were more simple in a way, and more guided by Guillaume. But now, obviously, we have a bit of experience under our belt, so we’re able to interact more in more complex, more tasty and rich ways. And that’s nice. It obviously does change the approach of the music and the sound a little bit, but it’s for the best.
Along with musical experience gaps, everyone has a different base of musical knowledge because we all grow up differently. When you bring something like Indian classical music, which has these very specific traditions, into a group setting, how do you make sure everyone’s on the same page?
Guillaume Cazalet: I just started with simple rules and simple principles. I think there can be a bridge between these two worlds, what we do in this kind of, let’s say, spiritual surrealist metal and Indian classical music. So I just started with simple rules, and then over time we made it more fine, more accurate, and more complex. At the beginning it’s, “Okay, so this raga is basically this scale. Let’s use it. We know the root note is this. Let’s do some random exploration of it.” Then, at some point we say, “Okay, but now this scale has to do with this note you can play only when you are descending the scale. And this note, you almost never play it—just sometimes.” It’s just like that—a few adjustments every time.
Reshma Goolamy: And eventually everyone picks it up. For the drummer, for example, there are rhythmic patterns that he can align on and then work around. For the drummer we have now [Rob Martin], Guillaume took him to his place and said, “Okay, I’m going to show you some things. I’m going to show you videos of people playing the tabla that way, and that’s your inspiration.”
Guillaume Cazalet: Basically, the bridge for me is that Indian classical music is drone related because it works only with a constant drone. If you don’t have this drone of the tanpura, you don’t have Indian classical music; it doesn’t work. Like a bagpipe or something, you have to get this constant sound. So, first it’s about super stretched, long sounds and stuff, and that can be inspired by drone-metal music, in a way. Then, there are some specific parts of Indian classical music culture; one branch is called Dhrupad, which is super slow and super mystical. If you consider how the notes are set, it can be a lot like drone metal—taking a long time on the note and just diving into it. But at some point we’re going to set the second note. “Oh wow, it’s a new landscape.”
The idea is that you stretch the note for so long that you are totally diving into it, and the main drone and this note create a relationship. Then when you change the note, you create a different kind of relationship. “Oh, now it’s more sad. Now it’s more romantic.” It’s quite strange. You can take every composition with a normal tempo and normal speed, and stretch it super, super slow and you have this kind of effect; you’re deconstructing the sense of the melody, but you dive into the note, and the relationship between the notes. You have a lot of that in the Dhrupad culture in India.
Romain Martini: That’s also something you find in some extreme metal, like funeral doom and shit like that. You cannot really understand the riffs. Most of the time it’s just so slow that you are more like a composition of colors, one behind another, which give you an overall feeling of sadness, anger, and stuff like that. It works a bit in the same way because the timescale is completely shifted and extended to an absurd amount of time.
Guillaume Cazalet: At the end there’s also some really nice ways to choose the scale of notes, which is super inspiring for us, because mostly when you listen to metal or every related genre, you can at some point analyze that the melody and the scale are quite similar. Sometimes, you will have this pentatonic scale, which sounds kinda bluesy, or you will have this kind of Arabic scale—which is always the same scale, actually—that gets you the exotic feeling of, “Okay, Arabic.” It’s a bit reductive, but learning Indian classical music, I discovered so many ways to preciously blend some notes. Even one scale can have many different ragas, which is a form of Indian classical music. That means those ragas will have a totally different feeling, but will be on the same scale.
So it’s quite interesting because you have a great diversity of note arrangements and ways to use them. That’s super inspiring. I hope you will see tomorrow it sounds like doom metal, but harmonically speaking, it’s not supposed to sound like a usual doom-metal band. It has to set a certain precise feeling because of those notes, and how you use them. For example, the first raga we’re going to play tomorrow, there are seven notes in the scale, but the root note, you almost never play. The basic drone will play it, sure, but the lead has to skip it, and just play it at the end at some point. And that gives you a kind of constant tension with a super strange feeling until you have this resolution.
I’m by no means an expert, but I know that ragas are meant to be played at specific times of day and convey specific feelings. When you have a big project like Neptunian Maximalism, how do you incorporate those different elements and moods together?
Guillaume Cazalet: For now, it’s hard to work on this daytime thing because, like I learned with Indian classical masters and stuff, “Oh, right now we’re learning, so we are just practicing. So don’t worry about that.” It’s supposed to make sense when you’re playing a concert, so at this moment you will choose the one. But when it’s about practice, you don’t care. But the three ragas we’re going to play [tomorrow], the first one is related to dusk, so it’s going to be a perfect time for it. The second one is supposed to be related to super early morning, like around 6AM, and the next one is morning, we’ll say.
Reshma Goolamy: It’s going to be illustrated by a video. That’s the trick. The Indian masters sometimes do a trick with this rule because they have to interpret something, and it’s not the right timing. So they try to be as accurate as possible, but sometimes, when there’s school or something, you have to do a certain raga and you have to cheat on the timing. So we try to set the atmosphere with the video, but it’s not going to be the right timing. Maybe that will be a goal sometime, but we have to have this large palette of ragas that we master before saying, “Okay, we can pick this one because it’s going to be the right time of day.”
Guillaume Cazalet: We are not trying to make a raga exactly how it’s supposed to be. It’s actually more…
Reshma Goolamy: Infused.
Guillaume Cazalet: Yeah, it’s not just a starting point because there is more of this into it, but what we do now is more like a composition. It’s based on raga, but there’s also some parts which are so experimental or so far from the ragas.
Romain Martini It’s not going to sound like Indian classical music, per se. We use it as an ingredient.
Guillaume Cazalet: It’s a big part of the music, but there’s also some experimental ingredients still in it. For example, at some point we did this kind of abstract part, which sounds like spectral minimalistic music, like La Monte Young. Actually, it’s a dream chord inspired by La Monte Young, but we chose notes from the raga, because those notes fit with the rules of the dream chords of La Monte Young. At some point the raga is going to be diluted and spread as post-realism music. So we play with the raga, but also with some other rules. For example, we did at some point, some raga Todi. We chose to kind of randomly play some of the notes of Todi, and then we made it more and more structured. So, we broke some rules.
Reshma Goolamy: I wanted to add that it takes a lifetime to learn Indian classical music. We don’t have the pretense to say, “Okay, we’re doing classical music on stage” without doing this whitewashing or cultural appropriation that can happen sometimes. It’s very humble. We’re trying in a humble way, with instruments that we can play and we can master, and understand to do something infused with it. Because it's something very inspirational for us.
That’s a good point, because in the ’60s, post-Beatles….
Romain Martini: We don’t like hippies.
Guillaume Cazalet: It depends. Jimmy Hendrix is my god.
Reshma Goolamy: He did go to India and learn at some point.
Guillaume Cazalet: Oh, George Harrison? Yeah! But finish the question. What was your point?
Reshma was saying “We’re not trying to appropriate, we’re trying to be respectful.” I just brought up the fact that Indian music has been appropriated a lot in rock culture and pop culture in general.
Reshma Goolamy: It’s from my culture as well. I’m starting to learn and grow an interest in it now. So I don’t feel legitimate talking about it yet, because there’s a lot of things I don’t know.
Romain Martini: To be fair, I don’t think we’ll ever reach that with this band, because [Guillaume] has other musical endeavors. And I’m pretty sure he’ll dig more into proper Indian music, but I don’t think Neptunian is really meant to be a proper expression of what it is to do Indian classical music with metal vibes. That’s not the point.
Guillaume Cazalet: It’s just an ingredient, a landscape to explore. But what you said with the ’60s culture. As Reshma said, I agree that for the Beatles and stuff… I mean, George Harrison learned sitar with Ravi Shankar. But at the same time, Ravi Shankar popularized Indian classical culture himself. He also said to him [in the 1971 documentary, Raga] “Maybe I did it wrong because I created a kind of distortion with this culture.” Now everyone’s about [psychedelia] and stuff, but it wasn’t about that actually for him. And it’s not psychedelic. I mean, we can feel it as something psychedelic—but it’s just the traditional musical culture.
Reshma Goolamy: It’s devotional to begin with.
Guillaume Cazalet: What I would say, in the past, people have stolen musical instruments from other cultures to add some spice in their sound without really knowing the culture itself, how to play the instrument correctly, in which context it’s supposed to be played, etc. And now I’m trained in the absolute opposite way. I’m keeping my own instrument, which is an electric guitar with fuzz distortion pedals and amplifiers. But I try to infuse it with what I’ve learned about Indian classical music from my teachers and my own research. It’s been a bit more than five years since I started learning it. I mean, during Covid we had two years of no work. So I dug and I dug and I dug—I had nothing else to do.
That’s how you used your lockdown? Studying Indian classical music?
Guillaume Cazalet: Yes. And now I plan to go to India to go deeper—to be a disciple for a certain amount of time. So my idea now is more about understanding the culture. If you know it well, you realize that you don’t have to necessarily steal the instrument. It’s interesting to explore how you can play these rules and this kind of music with your instrument and your own culture. For example, I’m learning sitar, but my instrument is basically the electric guitar. I also get that comment from Indian musicians themselves. One tablaist I work with [Sattar Khan], said “No, no, my friend. It’s fine. We don’t need you to bring your sitar. I’m tired of sitar. What you do with the electric guitar is much more interesting.” Ok, now I will continue on the guitar.
That’s awesome. If you’re working with your first love, that just adds more colors to your palette.
Guillaume Cazalet: But I also still have an experimental way of making and thinking. So for me, playing Indian classical music on guitar with the techniques coming from the sitar, the surbahar, and the rudra veena—it’s totally changed my way of playing guitar. I have to make huge bends like fifth, sixth, or more with one string; I can do five notes from one spot, just bending the string and mastering how to play with bass frequencies.
So for me, this Indian classical thing is also just to set me into a new context of experimental approach. And I prefer to change the way I play an electric guitar with a new way of playing like no one has seen before, rather than just putting a sitar on it. I mean, I already have put a sitar on it, but maybe today I would remove it if I had the choice. What’s done is done, though. As an artist or musician, you always will say, “Oh yeah, if I could redo this past work a bit differently, I would.” Or maybe that’s just me.
Neptunian Maximalism’s music can be found at Bandcamp.
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What label is releasing their new album? Are they still on I, Voidhanger?