MADNESS OF: WTCHCRFT & KYRUH
We sat down with MADNESS OF (KYRUH & WTCHCRFT) to discuss their individual musical journeys, the evolution of their DJ duo, and the role artists and DJs play in shaping New York’s political and cultural landscape.
May 1 2024
The Lot Radio
AUDIO AVAILABLE


Native to Brooklyn, New York, KYRUH is no stranger to hard, gritty, and high caliber techno. A purgative, high energy raver turned DJ, her style has punched through many hearts. Her residency performances at BASEMENT (NYC) are relentless statements of intent, wringing every drop of energy from her audiences.
INSTAGRAM SOUNDCLOUD
BANDCAMP

Acid fiend, Techno heathen. Occasional rap producer. It's All Your Fault.
INSTAGRAM SOUNDCLOUD
BANDCAMP
*Some words have been cut or jump have been made for readability’s sake*
SOR: Starting off slow, what’s an update on your personal projects?
KYRUH: For me, it's been going really well. The past year has been a metamorphosis of figuring out what KYRUH was when I was younger. I was 23. And now I'm 27. I know how to use more buttons on the mixer and I know more tools about how to produce. I’m figuring out how to make those tools be me and go on the journey of who I am now. So I feel really introspective right now.
SOR: What was the staple of KYRUH then vs now?
K: I think my career popped off when dance floors reopened up to the pandemic. The energy I had then was very freewheeling and there wasn't any rhyme or rhythm to what I was doing. That pent up energy really reflected in my music. Now I don't have pent up energy anymore. A lot of my sound now has become more technical, challenging myself to play with different genres, different speeds and tempos.
SOR: Anthony, how has your producing journey been?
WTCHCRFT: I have a disgusting amount of tracks. The best ones are slated for release this year. But aside from that, I've been really messing with samples. I came out with “1 4 U” and “What Do You Call A Flood”. Right now I'm focusing a lot on my voice, in the literal sense, like recording my voice. It’s something I started doing in 2020, and it’s evolving into a more fleshed out form of using my voice, instead of just using a couple phrases. On top of that, I'm listening to and studying a lot of Arabic music. I feel like I'm getting to a place where I've always wanted to be where I'm able to express what I'm actually feeling through the music. And that's always the goal. I've become very calculated with what I release now.
SOR: How do you curate your guys' vision as individuals? And as a duo?
K: I think it's changed a lot because we've changed as individual artists. So MADNESS OF is also changing. The idea behind it was that we fucked with each other so heavy, and we liked doing it together. And then we just kind of got more bookings together. Since we've known each other for so long, I just feel that little kid energy. It's not supposed to take itself too seriously. So the work that goes into MADNESS OF is coming from a place of: What the fuck do we feel right now? [It’s] very soulful. Not just in the music, but also in performance. When people come into our shows, people feel like it's two kids playing together.
W: MADNESS OF is a pure expression of our friendship, and also the way we relate to each other, and communicate as well. Specifically, KYRUH, great communicator. I feel like MADNESS OF is that pure expression of years and years and years of friendship.
K: It just feels so good. If it doesn't feel good, then we're not into it. You knew me before I even hit my first cue button. It's such a grounding presence. This project is like an homage to life.
SOR: That's so sweet. I think that's a perfect transition to what's your guy's origin story and how did you meet?
K: We met in 2013. You're like my longest real solid friendship. I’m from Brooklyn, and he's from Westchester, and we both did a summer high school program. It was high school students going to college. So we went to Syracuse University for the summer. And we were in two separate programs, but staying in the same dorm. And that's where we met and it was all downhill from there.
SOR: What was your very first impression of each other?
W: Well I thought she was cool as fuck. I thought she was cute too. Yeah. Let's keep it real. It's gonna be real. Remember in the elevator?
K: Yeah. I would walk around campus with my headphones on and not play music so I could peep into people's lives and without having to talk to people. I'd see him in the lounge and he was so extroverted and just bouncing off the walls with people. And then we met in the fucking elevator…
W: So me and my dorm mate roommate were doing laundry and we both had our shirts off. We thought we were so fucking cool and everyone was young and in a heightened sexual state. So we got into the elevator and KYRUH comes in after, and you were like, Why do you guys have your fucking shirts off? And we're like, oh, because we're doing laundry and she pointed to my roommate and said like, Well, you don't look good. And then pointed to me Well, you look good. It was really funny. I don't really remember exactly what happened in my classes. I almost got kicked out because I got a vape. Yea, it was so dumb. My parents were so mad.
SOR: Where does the name come from?
W: My girlfriend, Katie, came up with it. “Madness of two”, Folie à Deux, is a mental illness. I won't name any names, but some people in my family have it.
SOR: Can you explain the term some more?
W: It's when two people, specifically one, has delusions, you know, and then it spreads to whoever they're spending most of their time with. And then it becomes a shared delusion, where one person is genuinely having a mental break and the other person is like, not pretending to, but believing that they are seeing the same things and yeah, it's like a frenzy.
SOR: What does the madness look like?
K: I don't know if this sticks out to you, that one day you came to my house and we played six hours together before Basement. It was like, just for fun. We were practicing and I was learning. But we played one to one. It was like six or seven hours straight and then we had to call it. It was one of the best days of my life.
SOR: What do you guys think of duos? Any that come to mind that inspire you.
W: It doesn't even have to be techno like, I'm thinking OutKast. Big Boi and Andre 3000, they could not be more different in their rap styles. But when they come together, it's insane. It's a great, great thing.
K: I think it's really interesting that you brought up rap because before I fully immersed myself in techno like, I was a rap head; big head like smoking weed, vibing for fucking hours. And I think when you're a DJ, and a producer producing electronic music you can kind of never collaborate. Like it's not like a band, or like in rap music, when you're just kind of like, riffing off of each other. And to be honest, I think those types of artists fall flat… if you don't collaborate at any point in your career.
SOR: Any drawbacks to interacting with a crowd?
K: I will say that during a show, it feels so sacred, it sometimes feels like it's magic happening and I don't want any intrusion on the magic. I do think sometimes like I get a little sort of selfish with it, maybe even territorial. The more popular we get, the more that people feel like this project is theirs. And like, understandably, it is theirs. And there are times where I'm like, I don't want anybody near us right now.
SOR: Interesting separation, though. How do you define what becomes a crowd and what stays yours?
K: I think it also depends, especially when we're traveling. New York crowds tend to have a healthier respect than some other places that may not get techno shows as often, or have as robust of a scene. I get more protective when we're traveling.
W: You can't separate our identities from what we're doing as well. Like you are a black woman. I am a black man. You need to work with it, and you need to be empowered by it.
K: And if it is a queer space, it's a white space. Being protective over what MADNESS OF is, particularly when we're not in New York is on our plate a lot.
SOR: Do you guys see a correlation between how frequently you put it out with how much you're getting booked?
W: Honestly, yeah, it feels kind of random. I feel like getting booked has a lot more to do with your social media presence because at the end of the day the club's want to make money, right? They want to have the bottom line, that's really what it is. There's money to be made and alcohol to be sold. they want people to come to the club and that's understandable. If it was the case of worker owned clubs, that'd be fucking sick. But we're not there yet. So for now, we have to deal with this, like a capitalist bottom line mindset. I think a lot of that stems back to what you can offer them, How many people can you bring in?
K: Being an artist now, It's not just about the art, you also have to be a good curator. And that includes social media and branding. It's picking the album art, how you do press photos and picking how you present the shows that you just did. I feel like the curation is one of the biggest things in terms of getting bookings
SOR: I wanted to touch on the recent songs that you've put out, KYRUH?
K: I waited so long to make music because everybody wanted me to make music. Like every set I do, a piece of me is gone after. It's just gone. It's in the ether. It's for you now, it's gone. It was always something that I've wanted to do, but didn't have the tools or whatever. I found this out recently like less than 2% of electronic music artists are women. And so, you know, there was this pressure to produce, but not necessarily because people wanted my music, it was also to show that women can do it. When I put out “IMAGINARY BUTTS” a couple days ago, I was kind of going through it the last few weeks. So it took a lot of journaling, a lot of listening to music that has nothing to do with techno, a lot of post punk post industrial stuff is what inspired that. I've been figuring out what inspires me, you know, the humanness of the scene inspires me.
SOR: Speaking of humanness, let's turn to some politics of the scene. What responsibility do you think artists and DJs in the New York ecosystem have in the political scheme?
K: If you are guiding a party, you are guiding it culturally, musically, you are a cultural purveyor…you must understand what is happening in culture. And that is not just the happy sides of culture. Techno came out of darkness, it came out of poverty, it came out of resistance, it came out of struggle, it came out of people not being allowed to express themselves in the way that they feel like they could. It came out of restriction. Those roots are very fucking important. I believe, even if it is detrimental to the musical success that you might have, I think that's what I want my job and my legacy to be.
Before I was a DJ, I worked in public health. I worked in community health, I worked with homeless populations, I worked with the most underserved and overlooked communities in New York City, and that shit doesn't go away.
And even if I don't understand what's going on in culture, I educated myself and read about it and figured it out. Because I have fans who are Ukrainian, I have French fans, and fans who are Russian. And I personally want to take a stance on that. if the original question was about Palestine, you need to have a voice in it.
W: And I agree fully, to that point. I don't think we have a responsibility as artists to speak out, I think we have a responsibility as humans to speak out, and educate ourselves, and know about these topics and know where we stand on them. I'm not going to shit on anyone who doesn't know or maybe isn't involved in any of that. But I know that I'm going to be involved in that. And I would hope others follow suit. And if one of us isn't free, none of us are. If you think that terror won't reach you, you're sadly mistaken. And history will show you time and time again, if you look back.
SOR: Have y’all noticed any harsh realities of politics within the scene? Or realities of how people have reacted or the lack of movement?
W: 100%. It must be hard… at least for me, seeing how they decide to use their platforms or lack thereof. I think it's important to humanize and understand where people are coming from. And I think that's a very beautiful part of our music and our scene, it's like a come as you are sort of thing. But I think on the flip side of it, too, it is also hard to watch the way that people decide that they could best use their voice or not.
When I was at the New School encampment recently, shout out to Cooper, we watched a documentary and spoke about it afterwards. And there was a quote that one of the people brought up from the people who did Occupy Wall Street back in 2008/2009. I'm paraphrasing here, but it was like, ‘let us come together without the illusion of unity’... it means like, let us all come together for the same shared goal. Despite our differences, we don't have to pretend like we all have the same political views or that we all have the same exact way that we want to go about or the same tactics. But we need to come together and show that we're together as people, as workers, as black and brown folks, as white folks, as Jewish folks as Arab, Islam, Muslim folks. Everybody comes together, without that illusion of unity. Not everybody needs to be on the same exact page. But we need to have the same goal. It's not easy to come together, but there are people who can do it. And I think it's important to have those people and center your movements around love and acceptance.
K: You know, just as an artist I am touched by things and I want to make myself feel touched by things. I want to not only feel touched by the moment someone is losing themselves on a dance floor and it's the first moment they're on ecstasy and they’re hearing the music and the bass and dancing for the first time. I also want to feel touched by someone who lost their entire family and is suffering systematically and does not know whether or not their existence will go on past the next day. I need to feel both, and I'm inspired by, and want to be around people who feel both.
If you look at all of the emotions on the feelings wheel, there are way more negative emotions than there are positive…there's like happy and excited, but like most emotions you're going to feel as a human are sad. Like disgruntled, like annoying or upset or agitated, those are most of the feelings you're going to feel. If I'm engaging with music and art, and people are not engaging with all spectrums of emotion, that's a red flag to me. I think the only way that we're going to progress past all of this suffering is if we acknowledge what's going on. I think this is actually just my call to DJs.
W: Yeah, I think that's how you keep your humanity 100% which is important.
SOR: I feel like techno could be almost the most human music, even lack of lyrics and everything, because it is so up to interpretation. There's all those range of emotions, just in the songs themselves.
W: I agree. I remember when we were at Tresor, and there was a museum…
K: Yea like an anniversary, and they had an exhibit in the original Tresor bunker.
W: listening to some interviews with different big technical artists, I remember one of the things that they were talking about is like, how techno is computers and music, right? It's this futuristic sort of thing. But there is that human element that people bring to it. You can present your political ideas and you can present your emotional ideas even through all that rigidness and computerization, which we're getting more and more married to. But as rigid and technological as it can feel, there is a human aspect to it, because we're the ones using it. Even with fucking AI, where's AI getting those ideas from? Where do they pull from, from human ideas, right? They pull from human artists. So I think it all comes back to that humanity feeling. expressing it, centering it, because I think if you forget it, you allow really bad things to happen.
SOR: So we have one more question. So thank you guys for sitting with us. And thank you for giving such thorough, detailed, really thoughtful answers. What's on the horizon for MADNESS OF? Do you plan on making music together?
K: I want it weirder. I want to be feared.
W: I love the ideas that you're coming up with on your own. And like, it would be an honor to add to that, you know, and even build on top of that. I'm always saying that you dismantle it, put it back together, do whatever the fuck you want to do, you should do that in every facet of your life. You should be dismantling your ideas, your notions, the way you view things, and then maybe putting it back together and seeing what works and what doesn't work. And I would just love to be like building on top of whatever ideas you come up with, and love to see what you can build on top of whatever ideas I come up with.
SOR: Any final to shout outs?
W: Free Palestine.
SOR: That’s a wrap. Thank you guys
SOR: Starting off slow, what’s an update on your personal projects?
KYRUH: For me, it's been going really well. The past year has been a metamorphosis of figuring out what KYRUH was when I was younger. I was 23. And now I'm 27. I know how to use more buttons on the mixer and I know more tools about how to produce. I’m figuring out how to make those tools be me and go on the journey of who I am now. So I feel really introspective right now.
SOR: What was the staple of KYRUH then vs now?
K: I think my career popped off when dance floors reopened up to the pandemic. The energy I had then was very freewheeling and there wasn't any rhyme or rhythm to what I was doing. That pent up energy really reflected in my music. Now I don't have pent up energy anymore. A lot of my sound now has become more technical, challenging myself to play with different genres, different speeds and tempos.
SOR: Anthony, how has your producing journey been?
WTCHCRFT: I have a disgusting amount of tracks. The best ones are slated for release this year. But aside from that, I've been really messing with samples. I came out with “1 4 U” and “What Do You Call A Flood”. Right now I'm focusing a lot on my voice, in the literal sense, like recording my voice. It’s something I started doing in 2020, and it’s evolving into a more fleshed out form of using my voice, instead of just using a couple phrases. On top of that, I'm listening to and studying a lot of Arabic music. I feel like I'm getting to a place where I've always wanted to be where I'm able to express what I'm actually feeling through the music. And that's always the goal. I've become very calculated with what I release now.
SOR: How do you curate your guys' vision as individuals? And as a duo?
K: I think it's changed a lot because we've changed as individual artists. So MADNESS OF is also changing. The idea behind it was that we fucked with each other so heavy, and we liked doing it together. And then we just kind of got more bookings together. Since we've known each other for so long, I just feel that little kid energy. It's not supposed to take itself too seriously. So the work that goes into MADNESS OF is coming from a place of: What the fuck do we feel right now? [It’s] very soulful. Not just in the music, but also in performance. When people come into our shows, people feel like it's two kids playing together.
W: MADNESS OF is a pure expression of our friendship, and also the way we relate to each other, and communicate as well. Specifically, KYRUH, great communicator. I feel like MADNESS OF is that pure expression of years and years and years of friendship.
K: It just feels so good. If it doesn't feel good, then we're not into it. You knew me before I even hit my first cue button. It's such a grounding presence. This project is like an homage to life.
SOR: That's so sweet. I think that's a perfect transition to what's your guy's origin story and how did you meet?
K: We met in 2013. You're like my longest real solid friendship. I’m from Brooklyn, and he's from Westchester, and we both did a summer high school program. It was high school students going to college. So we went to Syracuse University for the summer. And we were in two separate programs, but staying in the same dorm. And that's where we met and it was all downhill from there.
SOR: What was your very first impression of each other?
W: Well I thought she was cool as fuck. I thought she was cute too. Yeah. Let's keep it real. It's gonna be real. Remember in the elevator?
K: Yeah. I would walk around campus with my headphones on and not play music so I could peep into people's lives and without having to talk to people. I'd see him in the lounge and he was so extroverted and just bouncing off the walls with people. And then we met in the fucking elevator…
W: So me and my dorm mate roommate were doing laundry and we both had our shirts off. We thought we were so fucking cool and everyone was young and in a heightened sexual state. So we got into the elevator and KYRUH comes in after, and you were like, Why do you guys have your fucking shirts off? And we're like, oh, because we're doing laundry and she pointed to my roommate and said like, Well, you don't look good. And then pointed to me Well, you look good. It was really funny. I don't really remember exactly what happened in my classes. I almost got kicked out because I got a vape. Yea, it was so dumb. My parents were so mad.
SOR: Where does the name come from?
W: My girlfriend, Katie, came up with it. “Madness of two”, Folie à Deux, is a mental illness. I won't name any names, but some people in my family have it.
SOR: Can you explain the term some more?
W: It's when two people, specifically one, has delusions, you know, and then it spreads to whoever they're spending most of their time with. And then it becomes a shared delusion, where one person is genuinely having a mental break and the other person is like, not pretending to, but believing that they are seeing the same things and yeah, it's like a frenzy.
SOR: What does the madness look like?
K: I don't know if this sticks out to you, that one day you came to my house and we played six hours together before Basement. It was like, just for fun. We were practicing and I was learning. But we played one to one. It was like six or seven hours straight and then we had to call it. It was one of the best days of my life.
SOR: What do you guys think of duos? Any that come to mind that inspire you.
W: It doesn't even have to be techno like, I'm thinking OutKast. Big Boi and Andre 3000, they could not be more different in their rap styles. But when they come together, it's insane. It's a great, great thing.
K: I think it's really interesting that you brought up rap because before I fully immersed myself in techno like, I was a rap head; big head like smoking weed, vibing for fucking hours. And I think when you're a DJ, and a producer producing electronic music you can kind of never collaborate. Like it's not like a band, or like in rap music, when you're just kind of like, riffing off of each other. And to be honest, I think those types of artists fall flat… if you don't collaborate at any point in your career.
SOR: Any drawbacks to interacting with a crowd?
K: I will say that during a show, it feels so sacred, it sometimes feels like it's magic happening and I don't want any intrusion on the magic. I do think sometimes like I get a little sort of selfish with it, maybe even territorial. The more popular we get, the more that people feel like this project is theirs. And like, understandably, it is theirs. And there are times where I'm like, I don't want anybody near us right now.
SOR: Interesting separation, though. How do you define what becomes a crowd and what stays yours?
K: I think it also depends, especially when we're traveling. New York crowds tend to have a healthier respect than some other places that may not get techno shows as often, or have as robust of a scene. I get more protective when we're traveling.
W: You can't separate our identities from what we're doing as well. Like you are a black woman. I am a black man. You need to work with it, and you need to be empowered by it.
K: And if it is a queer space, it's a white space. Being protective over what MADNESS OF is, particularly when we're not in New York is on our plate a lot.
SOR: Do you guys see a correlation between how frequently you put it out with how much you're getting booked?
W: Honestly, yeah, it feels kind of random. I feel like getting booked has a lot more to do with your social media presence because at the end of the day the club's want to make money, right? They want to have the bottom line, that's really what it is. There's money to be made and alcohol to be sold. they want people to come to the club and that's understandable. If it was the case of worker owned clubs, that'd be fucking sick. But we're not there yet. So for now, we have to deal with this, like a capitalist bottom line mindset. I think a lot of that stems back to what you can offer them, How many people can you bring in?
K: Being an artist now, It's not just about the art, you also have to be a good curator. And that includes social media and branding. It's picking the album art, how you do press photos and picking how you present the shows that you just did. I feel like the curation is one of the biggest things in terms of getting bookings
SOR: I wanted to touch on the recent songs that you've put out, KYRUH?
K: I waited so long to make music because everybody wanted me to make music. Like every set I do, a piece of me is gone after. It's just gone. It's in the ether. It's for you now, it's gone. It was always something that I've wanted to do, but didn't have the tools or whatever. I found this out recently like less than 2% of electronic music artists are women. And so, you know, there was this pressure to produce, but not necessarily because people wanted my music, it was also to show that women can do it. When I put out “IMAGINARY BUTTS” a couple days ago, I was kind of going through it the last few weeks. So it took a lot of journaling, a lot of listening to music that has nothing to do with techno, a lot of post punk post industrial stuff is what inspired that. I've been figuring out what inspires me, you know, the humanness of the scene inspires me.
SOR: Speaking of humanness, let's turn to some politics of the scene. What responsibility do you think artists and DJs in the New York ecosystem have in the political scheme?
K: If you are guiding a party, you are guiding it culturally, musically, you are a cultural purveyor…you must understand what is happening in culture. And that is not just the happy sides of culture. Techno came out of darkness, it came out of poverty, it came out of resistance, it came out of struggle, it came out of people not being allowed to express themselves in the way that they feel like they could. It came out of restriction. Those roots are very fucking important. I believe, even if it is detrimental to the musical success that you might have, I think that's what I want my job and my legacy to be.
Before I was a DJ, I worked in public health. I worked in community health, I worked with homeless populations, I worked with the most underserved and overlooked communities in New York City, and that shit doesn't go away.
And even if I don't understand what's going on in culture, I educated myself and read about it and figured it out. Because I have fans who are Ukrainian, I have French fans, and fans who are Russian. And I personally want to take a stance on that. if the original question was about Palestine, you need to have a voice in it.
W: And I agree fully, to that point. I don't think we have a responsibility as artists to speak out, I think we have a responsibility as humans to speak out, and educate ourselves, and know about these topics and know where we stand on them. I'm not going to shit on anyone who doesn't know or maybe isn't involved in any of that. But I know that I'm going to be involved in that. And I would hope others follow suit. And if one of us isn't free, none of us are. If you think that terror won't reach you, you're sadly mistaken. And history will show you time and time again, if you look back.
SOR: Have y’all noticed any harsh realities of politics within the scene? Or realities of how people have reacted or the lack of movement?
W: 100%. It must be hard… at least for me, seeing how they decide to use their platforms or lack thereof. I think it's important to humanize and understand where people are coming from. And I think that's a very beautiful part of our music and our scene, it's like a come as you are sort of thing. But I think on the flip side of it, too, it is also hard to watch the way that people decide that they could best use their voice or not.
When I was at the New School encampment recently, shout out to Cooper, we watched a documentary and spoke about it afterwards. And there was a quote that one of the people brought up from the people who did Occupy Wall Street back in 2008/2009. I'm paraphrasing here, but it was like, ‘let us come together without the illusion of unity’... it means like, let us all come together for the same shared goal. Despite our differences, we don't have to pretend like we all have the same political views or that we all have the same exact way that we want to go about or the same tactics. But we need to come together and show that we're together as people, as workers, as black and brown folks, as white folks, as Jewish folks as Arab, Islam, Muslim folks. Everybody comes together, without that illusion of unity. Not everybody needs to be on the same exact page. But we need to have the same goal. It's not easy to come together, but there are people who can do it. And I think it's important to have those people and center your movements around love and acceptance.
K: You know, just as an artist I am touched by things and I want to make myself feel touched by things. I want to not only feel touched by the moment someone is losing themselves on a dance floor and it's the first moment they're on ecstasy and they’re hearing the music and the bass and dancing for the first time. I also want to feel touched by someone who lost their entire family and is suffering systematically and does not know whether or not their existence will go on past the next day. I need to feel both, and I'm inspired by, and want to be around people who feel both.
If you look at all of the emotions on the feelings wheel, there are way more negative emotions than there are positive…there's like happy and excited, but like most emotions you're going to feel as a human are sad. Like disgruntled, like annoying or upset or agitated, those are most of the feelings you're going to feel. If I'm engaging with music and art, and people are not engaging with all spectrums of emotion, that's a red flag to me. I think the only way that we're going to progress past all of this suffering is if we acknowledge what's going on. I think this is actually just my call to DJs.
W: Yeah, I think that's how you keep your humanity 100% which is important.
SOR: I feel like techno could be almost the most human music, even lack of lyrics and everything, because it is so up to interpretation. There's all those range of emotions, just in the songs themselves.
W: I agree. I remember when we were at Tresor, and there was a museum…
K: Yea like an anniversary, and they had an exhibit in the original Tresor bunker.
W: listening to some interviews with different big technical artists, I remember one of the things that they were talking about is like, how techno is computers and music, right? It's this futuristic sort of thing. But there is that human element that people bring to it. You can present your political ideas and you can present your emotional ideas even through all that rigidness and computerization, which we're getting more and more married to. But as rigid and technological as it can feel, there is a human aspect to it, because we're the ones using it. Even with fucking AI, where's AI getting those ideas from? Where do they pull from, from human ideas, right? They pull from human artists. So I think it all comes back to that humanity feeling. expressing it, centering it, because I think if you forget it, you allow really bad things to happen.
SOR: So we have one more question. So thank you guys for sitting with us. And thank you for giving such thorough, detailed, really thoughtful answers. What's on the horizon for MADNESS OF? Do you plan on making music together?
K: I want it weirder. I want to be feared.
W: I love the ideas that you're coming up with on your own. And like, it would be an honor to add to that, you know, and even build on top of that. I'm always saying that you dismantle it, put it back together, do whatever the fuck you want to do, you should do that in every facet of your life. You should be dismantling your ideas, your notions, the way you view things, and then maybe putting it back together and seeing what works and what doesn't work. And I would just love to be like building on top of whatever ideas you come up with, and love to see what you can build on top of whatever ideas I come up with.
SOR: Any final to shout outs?
W: Free Palestine.
SOR: That’s a wrap. Thank you guys