Review Summary: The thesis statement of Duster's discography.
If you go outside on a clear, dark night and look up, itβs not hard to see why we have been captivated by the cosmos. Legends about the stars are found in every ancient civilization, and their grandiose nature is only enhanced by modern space programs. For the first time, ideas of reaching the stars seem plausible in an age of rapid technological advancement. If we landed a man on the moon almost 55 years ago, surely we can do something even greater now. Yet, for all of human existence minus this tiny sliver of existence, the stars have been unreachable, infinitely interpretable emblems in the sky.
Even now, in the age of theoretical physics and the Hubble Space Telescope, the sheer size of space is completely incomprehensible. As a species, we are obsessed with the night sky, yet we only have the power to observe. Stars exist as a monument to human insignificance, placed meticulously by some all-powerful being or simply appearing by some great circumstance, depending on your school of thought. And, if you err on the side of cynicism, there is no denying that this must have been a perfect accident. Whether you believe in a God or not, there is no denying that this will remain the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow, a universe of infinite parts all moving on the same infinite plane with infinite different trajectories, one that you have the privilege of being able to be part of.
Use your opportunity wisely.
In a way, Duster embodies this perfectly in a simple, infinitely replayable nine-minute EP. Like the space race of a half-century ago, Transmission, Flux is a minuscule chunk of time relative to your life, but it can readjust how you view π¦π·π¦π³πΊπ΅π©πͺπ―π¨ if you let it.
Stop staring at the ground, and let your gaze slip to the heavens.
Let yourself dream of something more.
