Runnner - Like Dying Stars, We're Reaching Out - Cloudy - VINYL LP

Always Repeating, Runnner's debut for Run For Cover Records, yearns for a sense of place. The project of the now LA-based songwriter/multi-instrumentalist Noah Weinman, Runnner's poignant reflections on the isolation and anxiety caused by a sense of rootlessness radiate with wit and charm. While writing the songs that now span Always Repeating, he floated between Providence, Los Angeles, and New York. InchIt's like I sing about these places yearning to be there, but also knowing full well that what I'm really missing is the people I met and the experiences I had,Inch Weinman explains. InchI get restless and frustrated in my present, and romanticize my past while pushing myself into some different chapter-one that usually starts with me in a dark place and some songs in my journal. These songs end up being the constant for me over the years.Inch Always Repeating, self-produced and recorded wherever he called home at the time, documents this cycle of looking back and moving forward, of alienation changing to reconciliation.The 10-track collection is composed of five re-recorded versions of songs that appeared on Runnner's 2017 debut, Awash, and 2020's One of One EP. Although the songs were written over the course of three years, all find Weinman grappling with the same thing feelings of uncertainty about his life. After leaving college, his friends, and his beloved life in Ohio, Weinman made the reluctant decision to move back to his hometown of Los Angeles; not because he wanted to, but because he wasn't sure where else to go. It was an extremely isolating time and that existential dread pervades the music. InchI began to feel like all of the people I knew and had met maybe never really existed,Inch Weinman explains. InchI fell out of touch with everyone. It was really lonely. I wrote these songs as a way of reaching out and trying to reconnect. It's interesting that

Red. 'starsdust' is an ambient album composed from the fragments of Runnner's 2023 album 'like dying stars, we're reaching out. ' singles 'ten' and 'eleven' are glitchy, colorful moments of reflection stretched across a few meditative minutes. Runnner's noah weinman says on the creation of this InchI made one rule for myself while making this record and it was that I wasn't allowed to record any new audio. Every sound on this album is a repurposed stem from Like Dying Stars, We're Reaching Out. I was allowed to pitch, flip, stretch, and chop anything I wanted, but everything had to begin from something already recorded for the last album. It started out as something fun to do in transit (and to alleviate my flight anxiety). I was doing a lot of solo touring at the time and my affinity for cheap Southwest Airlines flights meant a lot of layovers. I think I made the first three or four sketches either in the air or at the airport. I made the rest of the album during the spring of 2023 when I was mostly stuck in bed recovering from tearing my achilles tendon and the subsequent surgery. A project that seemed to perfectly fit my constraints. The initial process of making these songs was an attempt to remove myself from the process a bit. I'd (sort of) randomly choose stems from songs, like the bass from one track, the drums from another, and maybe find a banjo or piano loop from a third, and then throw them together. It usually made something chaotic at first, but the joy of the album was sifting through that initial cacophony and finding the kernel of the song to keep pursuing. Many attempts were abandoned, but the twelve featured here I consider to be my most fruitful endeavors. It was very exciting, scary, and rewarding to step outside of my wheelhouse on this record and I hope you ennnjoy it. Inch

Runnner's sophomore full-length, A Welcome Kind of Weakness, emerged from a simultaneous tear in songwriter Noah Weinman's body and life. Written during the months spent bedridden and healing from a torn achilles and the drastic upheaval of a breakup, the 11 songs on this record are Weinman's most bracing, inviting the perceived vulnerability of the album's title willingly. But at the same time, these songs are Runnner's most present, defiant and self-assured, a reminder of the resolve that can come from gracefully accepting submission. Longtime fans of Weinman's likely fell for his signature homespun indie rock, recorded almost exclusively in bedrooms and home studios, where his poignant and self-deprecating lyrics float over beds of banjos, guitars and reverberant horns crescendoing to cathartic peaks. But on A Welcome Kind of Weakness, Weinman soars for the first time in high fidelity. Runnner's first studio record, it recalls the larger-than-life highs of the early aughts rock that Weinman grew up on, bands like Coldplay, Radiohead, and Snow Patrol with their pristine vocal presence, scintillating guitar riffs, and astral synth sparkle. This is rock music in it's most delicious form, music that gave Weinman something to look forward to when he could finally play live again. But as high as the sonic highs may be on A Welcome Kind of Weakness, we also see Weinman struggling gracefully with the questions that emerge from moments of physical and emotional undoing. As he sings about spackling holes in the house he shared with his ex and reckoning with a long span of physical futility, we're reminded, too, of all the spectrums of experience we endure. We are all perpetually pulled between polls-weakness/resolve, nostalgia/presence, powerlessness/control-but it takes a certain bravery to sit in the murky middle long enough to write about it. And in his willingness to b