New release: Líom
Líom - Goneform
Hi dear reader,
Last week I released my new album Goneform.
This album grew out of living with epilepsy. It’s a condition that asks for constant attention, pacing, and trust. If I don’t respect my physical and mental limits, things can go wrong in ways I can’t predict. Accepting that reality, instead of resisting it, is what this album became about.
An epilepsy diagnosis comes with grief. Grief for ease. Grief for moving through the world without thinking twice. Grief for a body that once felt natural and safe.
There’s grief in the endless details: when to rest, when to stop, when it’s safe to cross the street, swim, or sleep. Grief in the weight the body carries, and in the people who knew you before life felt fragile.
Goneform follows a cycle. It’s inspired by the phases that can surround seizures, without being a literal depiction. It’s about losing grip, moving through uncertainty, and finding acceptance in that uncertainty.
Aura opens the album. It’s a subtle shift in awareness, noticing that something is about to change.
Behind The Noise focuses on that moment where things start to blur and overwhelm creeps in.
Silent Faults (a collaboration with marine eyes) carries the subtle knowledge that something could go wrong, even if it’s unseen.
Equinox drifts in like a dream you didn’t choose.
Goneform (a collaboration with Samlif) is at the heart of this body of work, where form disappears and giving in feels inevitable.
Filleadh, meaning “return,” follows. A certain trust that even when your brain feels broken and you’re at the mercy of the universe, you somehow make it back and heal.
Sentience wakes up all the senses in slow motion, while settling back into presence.
I Don’t Know How Long I Was Away closes the cycle, reflecting the vulnerability of letting others carry you when you no longer can.
I invite you to listen to the album as a whole. Sit or lie down. Let it wash over you for a while. Some moments may feel heavy, or remind you of not fully being at the steering wheel of your own body or mind.
But toward the end, there’s space for acceptance.
Not because things are suddenly easy, but because fear has a place to exist without taking over.
Whether it is a neurological, mental, or physical challenge that feels like a torment on life at times, there’s light to be found in embracing what we can’t control. We can only control how we respond. Let that control be gentle. Let it make room for your intuition, even if it’s buried under noise.
I choose to let this album be a testament to strength, to grace in understanding, and to holding what feels too scared to be felt.
A special thanks to wonderful fellow ambient music creators and dear soul-connections Samlif (on Goneform) and marine eyes (on Silent Faults) for the love and care they poured into these collaborations on the project.
I hope you’ll enjoy this release, you can listen to it here.
Thank you for reading and listening. It means a lot.
