Allan Rayman had to get away. While some artists are blessed with the ability to balance their passions and responsibilities, Rayman found himself singularly consumed by his music, and retreat was the only option. It was a selfish move, and perhaps deep down he knew that, but ultimately, in his eyes, escape was an act of survival. To those he left behind, it felt more like betrayal, but by now their voices have long since faded away, unable to reach him in the isolated cabin he calls home. There, deep in the woods outside the barely-on-the-map hamlet of Lost Springs, Rayman set up residence and began to write and record a stunning sonic chronicle of his slow descent