“Melt” is Rahm’s latest single, featuring Walrus. Available via Flexible Records, an offshoot of Terrible Records created as an outlet to launch new and unique debut releases. The label will be releasing the track on flexi-vinyl. The track proceeds Rahm’s March album release titled “I Forgive You and the Anvil You Snagged on Your Way Up From the Harbor and Back”.

From Rahm:

I remember a pivotal moment one rainy lollapalooza night standing in the middle of Grant Park trying to decide if I should see the Foo Fighters or this dude I’d never heard of named Deadmau5, eventually choosing Deadmau5 and had the time of my little life krumping and bumping in the mud at my first electronic music show, feeling the subsonics deep in my rumpus. The next day I thought to myself ‘Schoenberg had it wrong with his tone rows – if you want to abandon harmony use noise, use electronics.’ I was way into classical music for the latter half of high school – Ravel Debussy Stravinsky Prokofiev Satie (maybe Tchaikovsky) being my main men – continuing into college, and continuing into now, though I’m a bit less active about listening to it now.

A bit about Rahm:

Rahm grew up in the American midwest where he fell in pre-pubescent love for the following:
Hannah Kolar (or Amanda?)

Samantha Wilburn

The blonde girl in show choir, Sam.

Katlin Thompson who everyone liked but that doesn’t matter so did I.

Kristen Pesut I’m sorry.

Demi from 1st grade. We touched lips while washing our hands in the classroom sink after some activity with dough. You remember that? I remember it clearly. Do you remember?

The girl with dark hair in 3rd grade. I think your name started with an A. You helped me the time I accidentally stapled my thumb. You helped me wash up. You were so gentle, so caring. And not afraid of my blood, blood that ran down the classroom’s miniature sink in search of you, blood of my blood.

Tammy Tarnowski (You ended up with Dominic and I support that.)

Henrietta Conrad it was my fault nothing happened. You were giving me signals, I can see now.

Meghan McGlaughlin, who asked me for piano lessons that time but I didn’t know meant it. I can give you one now. I will.

Lindsy C we had something.

Ashley you too.

Elizabeth something

Kerry, the short one

The girl on my soccer team who would hang out sometimes when I would go over to the Brooks’ house to play with Graham whose name I think started with a C. I didn’t imagine kissing you as much as I imagined putting my mouth around your whole head and kind of ingesting you – inhaling you so fully that you’d end up on my inside, breathing my inhales, exhaling my drawn out sigh, bearing forth another us, a unity, a third organism that is us both in tandem, symbiotic in crystalline, perennial togetherness. If you find this please call me. You’re certainly a different person by now. But I must know. If before you didn’t see me, I ask you to see me now. Know me. I made something and put it out here on the internet deep down hoping maybe you would hear. You and all the others. Do you hear me? Any of you? Did you hear me then? Try to remember me. Exhume the aching skeleton of that forgotten sliver of affection for the short boy who played Samoset in the Plymouth Rock play one fall and sang “I Believe I Can Fly” to himself every time he rode the tire swing and try to breathe life back into that once limitless liking. Maybe even like liking. Hear it please, and remember. Because I am loud enough and no not afraid to finally to say I LIKE LIKED YOU. I did. I DO. I’m in Brooklyn. Find me.

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