Snow Fox

Sometimes a mysterious thing happens with a song: the reason you wrote it shows up long after you’ve written it. Back when I was working this tune out, I’d always get unreasonably emotional & I wasn’t sure why. Months later, as my dad was slowly passing on in the living room, my mom asked if I would play something on the piano. Oh god. How was I supposed to play the “right” thing in that moment? I wanted to run away, but I knew I had to play. This was the only music I could think of. So, shaking, I played it. And it seemed as though it had always been written for there and then — a way to say, “Go on. Let go. Isn’t it beautiful to disappear? You can disappear and still be here. You’re a snow fox.” So this song is stuck in that moment for me. Not in a sad way. In an ineffable, everything-is-an-unseen-web-and-we-know-nothing way. I don’t believe in many things you can hold or articulate — religion, crystals, astrology… — so it’s always nice when a song steps in and whispers, “Yup.”