“Tuning Out...” by Bastille sounds like those photos that should have a person in it, but the face is cropped out so it’s only like, a hairline or an arm.
It’s a half-empty, uncertain feeling. A nostalgia, a longing for something that never was. Something incomplete, unsettling, breathtaking. A horror movie with the flickering lights but nothing has attacked our protagonists, not yet. The words are altered, there is a vague sense that something is not right.







