The music created by Cousin carries with it fragments of scenery—the scent of dry earth, the wind brushing through the trees on a hill, the light spilling across streets at dusk, the moon adrift in a pitch-black sky. From within the depths of his sound, a hazy landscape slowly rises.
Perhaps it’s because his music is infused with a sensibility shaped by both city and nature, and by his memories of each.

The rhythm, breathed out by the drums, gently stirs something deep within the body. Textures bleed softly into one another, blurring their outlines. Organic in its expansiveness and soft as live instrumentation, the sound coexists with the minimalism of electronic music—flowing in slow, quiet undulations beneath the surface. Refined, yet grounded, this sound seems to draw out the listener’s memories and imagination, as if half-awake in a dream.