There’s a kind of music-making that one might call sonic nesting—a small constellation of synths and a dusty cassette deck in the corner of a room, a drawer full of notebooks. It's the work that happens in the periphery, outside of touring and spectacle, where the artist becomes both listener and critic. In the wake of lockdowns—when stages fell silent and the meeting house of live music disappeared—many turned inward. Creativity responds to disruption; each crisis brings a new body of work.