There are moments in making a record when the process stops looking like work and starts looking like memory while it is still happening. lusciousluciapavone caught one of those moments. Red light. Studio air. Me singing. Everybody in their element. No performance for the camera. No trying to make it look like something. Just the thing itself. And somehow, that little piece of footage holds so much of what 13 Moons has been. The waiting. The rewriting. The laughing. The exhaustion. The surrender. The musicians. The mistakes. The magic. All the conversations about wanting this record to be more than a collection of songs — wanting it to feel like an experience, a body, a world — and then suddenly there it is on camera. Alive. I keep saying the making of this record is part of the record. This is what I mean. Not just the finished master. Not just the vinyl. Not just the artwork. This. The room. The breath before the note. The red light on the walls. The people helping the so...