DECKARD CROIX presents, "Lens of Interior Design"
- Adam Jones - MusicFarmer5
- 1 day ago
- 2 min read
MUSIC FARMER 5 - Review by Adam Jones
Reflections in Static: DECKARD CROIX Paints a Portrait Through a Hall of Echoes
DECKARD CROIX doesn’t write songs so much as conjure worlds - rich with shadows, static, and the sense that something important is just out of reach. “Lens of Interior Design” creates a captivating atmosphere - a haunted, humming corridor where identity flickers like a projection reel caught between frames.
A curtain of scorched synths crackles open. They arrive not with clarity, but with friction - like wires sparking in a rainstorm. And just before the unease becomes total, the drums fall in - tight, measured, human. It’s a balance between control and collapse, a war between structure and smoke.
Then DECKARD CROIX speaks - or rather, sings like someone exhaling thoughts they weren’t meant to say aloud. The vocal is eerily present yet distanced, as if recorded from a dream remembered at dawn. His voice echoes the alien poise of Bowie and the sly detachment of Beck, but always with his own strange magnetism: equal parts futurist preacher and broken radio.
The lyrics read like code poetry, at once cryptic and oddly intimate. “Hand over hand over gland, the metaphor-man…” It’s slippery, surreal, but never hollow. These aren’t riddles for the sake of cleverness - they’re emotional artifacts from someone who’s been reshaped too many times by the expectations of others. This is identity built by reflection, not invention. “Lens of interior resign… interspect the world’s decline” - as if he’s peering into a mirror and watching society crumble behind him.
A gleaming guitar melody cuts through the static like a watchful lighthouse on a foggy coast - not obvious, not overbearing, just enough to remind you there’s still something real to hold. It anchors the track’s more celestial wanderings in a place that feels tactile, alive.
