Throwaway Style is a monthly column dedicated to spotlighting the artists of the Pacific Northwest music scene through the age-old practice of longform feature writing. Whether it’s an influential (or overlooked) band or solo artist from the past, someone currently making waves in their community (or someone overlooked making great music under everybody’s nose), or a brand new act poised to bring the scene into the future; this space celebrates the community of musicians that makes the Pacific Northwest one of a kind, every month from KEXP. 

This month's column focuses on Mt. Fog, formerly the music-making pseudonym of Carolyn B., and now an ethereal trio which includes Seattle music scene veterans Andy Sells and Casey Rosebridge. The band visits KEXP studios for a conversation with Martin about their individual and collective stories detailing their lifelong love affair with music.

Even if an artist is exceptional in a very specific way, the real reward comes from being able to evolve. Mt. Fog seem acutely aware of this. Once the music-making pseudonym of classically trained virtuoso Carolyn B., Mt. Fog has become a full-fledged band, rounded out by drummer Andy Sells and bassist Casey Rosebridge. A closeness exists between the three which belies the tried-and-true method of an accomplished solo artist enlisting hired guns; in conversation, Rosebridge half-jokes that the band has been mistaken for a throuple.

On a purely musical level, Mt. Fog exists as somewhat of an anomaly in Seattle’s contemporary music scene. (That’s not to say they are the only band that fits the bill; there are a handful of notable exceptions to this rule.) In a vast and endless sea of rock bands—ranging in quality from adequate-but-dull to legitimately great—Mt. Fog lies in the space between classical and the modernist avant-garde; mostly devoid of six-string guitars and standard song structure; containing old-world mysticism and something far beyond the present day in the opposite direction. I keep waiting for some faux-intellectual music type to refer to them as “Anglofuturist.” 

Mt. Fog’s music is a study in texture and dynamics as much as melodic grace and songwriting prowess. It’s an artistic rendering that helps you visualize a world beyond the terrestrial, modern landscape (specifically here in Seattle); destroying and rebuilding itself into more garish shapes with each passing year.

Immediately evocative of misty day drives along any number of Washington’s many forest-shrouded highways and byways, Mt. Fog’s music recalls what Rosebridge describes as a “very Seattle overcast kind of feeling.” Musically, Carolyn’s arrangements—occasionally sparse, sometimes full and bustling, always melody-rich—lend themselves greatly to watching rainfall from the safety of the indoors side of a window. Lyrically, Mt. Fog is a study in how a highly sensitive artist turns her vulnerability into something enormous and monolithic. 

But before we dive too deeply into the music, let’s get to know the artists.

Danville, Virginia has the rather dubious distinction of being known as the final capital city of the Confederacy during the dying gasps of the Civil War. It survived the long arm of Jim Crow, voter suppression tactics, and decades of racist violence to emerge, according to the 2020 Census, as a city with a Black population of over 50%. Many years before the turn of this decade, it was where Carolyn B. grew up; but, in her words, it was “not a place I would necessarily recommend.”

Carolyn describes the Danville of her youth as “a really Southern town,” and she didn’t really take to debutante culture or her neighbors’ fondness for hunting. She quips that she grew up in a pseudo-Victorian household, which contains fond memories of her and her sisters “drawing and making music and inventing stories and prancing about in the woods.” 

Living within walking distance of the North Carolina border, Carolyn spent a lot of time in the Tarheel State’s Piedmont Triad region—the cities of Greensboro, High Point, and Winston-Salem; roughly the same distance from Danville as Seattle is situated from Tacoma. She remembers going to Greensboro taking violin and piano lessons and being a part of a youth symphony orchestra. In Winston-Salem, she attended a public boarding arts school called University of North Carolina School of the Arts. Across its five programs (Dance, Design and Production, Drama, Film, and Music), UNCSA has a decorated alumni list that includes Danny McBride and Jada Pinkett-Smith. 

Andy Sells was born on Capitol Hill and grew up in Everett. His mother is a classical pianist, so it’s safe to say music was prevalent in his household. Jazz has always been a firm constant in his musical life, peppered with lessons and classical music on the early end. He describes his mom as “quite good” on the piano, “so I gravitated towards pianists [and] playing my music with good keyboard players.” He’s been playing music for about three decades and was recently shouted out in Megan Seling’s fantastic Pretty Girls Make Graves oral history for The Stranger (by PGMG vocalist Andrea Zollo) as an uncredited drummer on cult favorite Eastside band Area 51’s recordings. 

Casey Rosebridge described his musical upbringing with an unintentional, ironic pun: “I was pretty plugged into classical music.” After a little laughter rumbled in the recording booth at KEXP, he corrected course on his wording (the quote was just too good to not include here). Up until about age 17, Rosebridge’s familiarity with music was exclusive to classical forms, with piano being his particular area of expertise. 

“When I finally did listen to Nirvana on my own terms,” says Rosebridge, “I remember one particular summer, I was always walking the dog around my neighborhood and listening to Nirvana every day, just jamming out. It was definitely a revelation.” 

There’s a stark contrast between the respective upbringings of these three bandmates that sort of belies how naturally they fit together. Sells was a skateboarder in his younger days, and (as noted) had strong ties to Seattle’s punk scene as grunge became the city’s chief musical export—while a few years later and many miles away, Carolyn went on trips with her family to Colonial Williamsburg, which is touted as “the largest living history museum in the world.” (That’s Williamsburg, Virginia, not Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Although colonialism was the original gentrification, who needs a living history museum of investment bankers and patchouli-scented “rich kids slumming it” competing in intramural kickball leagues?)

Carolyn’s sisters are both accomplished musicians in their own right; her oldest sister, a vocalist for much of her life, is now a professional singer. They were always models for coolness to their younger sister, practicing in the age-old tradition of being a big sibling. Particularly, their music tastes opened a new world for Carolyn. She says, “In middle school, they started getting into Bjork and Tori Amos, so I heard a lot of that kind of music in the car, because they would be sneaking in the CD.” 

Above a mic stand in her bedroom studio in a home she shares with Sells in Everett, there hangs a framed Bjork poster.

Carolyn remembers the sort of music her father, who played in a few bands, listened to and enjoyed as well. Says Carolyn, “My dad would often come home and lie on the floor and listen to Yes and Gentle Giant and that kind of prog rock stuff, so I remember singing along to ‘Owner of a Lonely Heart’ quite a bit.” 

Because she was a kid growing up in the 1990s, “you’re listening to the radio, and you’re gonna hear a lot of R&B, hip-hop, and pop.” She admits to having an “ethereal” and “atmospheric” exposure to these strains of popular music, but it wasn’t exactly intent listening.

“I remember when I got to college, I was like, ‘I’m gonna listen to cool music now,’” says Carolyn. She began to get into indie rock because the person she was dating in college listened to quite a bit of Grizzly Bear. (To help us figure out what band she was referring to before we could name it, she hummed the piano line that opens “Two Weeks.”)

Rosebridge interjects: “I liked that band a lot. And that is such a band for classical music nerds.” 

After hearing Grizzly Bear and getting into Swedish avant-pop duo the Knife, Carolyn began attending shows in New England, where she was attending school at the time. 

This leads us to an interesting side discussion about the notion of making a concerted effort to listen to “cool” music. Rosebridge says he felt insecure about it as a teenager; worrying about if he had a cool enough answer of what kind of music he listened to—”Which is the worst possible reason to get into music,” he says.

Carolyn mentioned she grew up writing off the notion of “cool” music, “because I was in classical music and I felt encouraged to be a snob.” But she had a couple epiphanies listening to contemporary indie music, including Wilco playing an outdoor festival called Tanglewood.

I mentioned that all of the artists Carolyn and Rosebridge mentioned listening to, even after discovering indie/alternative music, were technically proficient musicians. Bjork, Elliott Smith, and even Kurt Cobain, whose music was often deceptively skillful. And then Carolyn buries the lede by admitting she was a big fan of Spice Girls and that her first concert was Backstreet Boys at Greensboro Coliseum. 

While we were on the subject of boy bands, Sells mentioned he listened to Justin Timberlake’s 2002 solo debut, Justified, quite a bit. As a drummer, he admired the productions of the album’s producers, Timbaland and the Neptunes. About the latter, Sells noticed when Pharrell Williams mentioned that he was a big fan of Stereolab, because he could hear that influence slightly in the music. 

Sells also appreciated that the Neptunes came out of DIY/skateboarding culture. He says, “That’s how I perceived it with those guys and [I] always gravitated towards that stuff. The DIY aspect of art; people who do stuff for themselves and are original. They’re not really fixated on the external as much. That’s why I like Mt. Fog, too. I just gravitate towards people who do their own thing and aren’t so concerned with external factors.” 

Guide to the Unusual, Mt. Fog’s debut full-length album, is most certainly the product of a singular vision. “I think Carolyn is super original,” Rosebridge says. “Originality is one of those things a lot of people… they kind of put the cart before the horse [and say], ‘I’m gonna be original.’ But if you set out to be original, you’re guaranteed to be just cobbling together something that feels forced, you know? Whereas people who are actually original, it’s a consequence of just following.” 

With her celestial, operatic voice, it’s easy to slot Carolyn in the lineage of Kate Bush—which I more or less wrote outright in my Throwaway Style blurb for Guide to the Unusual back in July of 2021. With the benefit of hindsight, that comparison feels a little overstated today, especially when she told Seattle music journalist Rob Moura (in a 2022 interview with The Tape Deck) that she had been recently getting into Kate Bush since the release of her debut album. But Guide to the Unusual is not the very beginning of Mt. Fog, so let’s backtrack a bit. 

After a sojourn into a rough period of her life that was kept off the record, Carolyn found herself in Olympia after leaving a postdoctoral research program at UW and becoming very passionate about unionizing. She says, “I started Mt. Fog because I was in Olympia and I was basically working a part-time job and I didn’t have any friends. I was living with these artists and they were just the coolest people and they didn’t have internet. I had been making these loops for years, and I was like, ‘What if I write a song?’” 

Carolyn’s early recordings resulted in what she described to Moura as a “super secret album that’s no longer on the internet,” the Beowulf-referencing Giants Built This Blade, but in the KEXP studio, we quickly became engaged in a discussion about why Guide to the Unusual and her 2020 EP, Hauntology Vol. 1, are no longer on streaming services and only available on Bandcamp. 

“I could see, over time, removing my work from streaming [entirely],” says Carolyn. “The reason I removed [Guide to the Unusual] from streaming is because I feel my sound has changed a lot. I feel people will appreciate [that album] if they’re actually spending the time to get to know me as an artist. That’s why I kept it on Bandcamp, because contextually, it makes a lot of sense, but if people are just dipping into my work, I want them to listen to the newer stuff.” 

Says Rosebridge, “And it’s so well known that Spotify sucks for artists. Everybody knows that by now.” 

The music business has changed to the point where, in my opinion, it’s left many musicians brainwashed. The sentiment that streaming is where everybody’s at is one I roundly disagree with; real music fans are still buying music. They still buy physical copies of albums; and if they don’t buy vinyl or CDs or cassettes, they’re buying merch. In the past year alone, Bandcamp has generated over $193 million in total revenue—and the lion’s share of that goes to artists and labels, compared to the 1/3 of a cent the artist gets paid when someone streams one of their songs on Spotify. 

“Those people completely exist,” says Carolyn. “We put out the new record [ultraviolet heart machine] on preorder and I’ve had people reaching out [asking], ‘Are you going to re-press Guide to the Unusual?’ That’s what I appreciate, and I feel people are more likely to do that on Bandcamp.” 

“Seems like it makes [music] a little faceless,” Sells says about the music industry rebuilding itself around streaming platforms. He teaches music lessons for a living, and he says, “I ask the kids, ‘What do you like?’ And they’re like, ‘I don’t know, I just listen to these playlists.’”

Music industry economics aside, Guide to the Unusual serves as an interesting point of entry to Mt. Fog because it’s essentially a document of Carolyn learning on the job, so to speak. Her gift for atmospheric compositions and interesting, off-center rhythms are as ever-present on her debut as her later work—not to mention her imagistic and elliptical lyrics about loneliness, regret, and an uncertain future. In my personal opinion, there are few better-written songs outside the field of rap to come out of this region in the past number of years than “One Piece Puzzle.” Rosebridge specifically notes the song as a standout track from Guide. 

The enveloping musical world Carolyn built for herself on Guide to the Unusual almost overshadows the depth of feelings in her lyrics. Almost. 

“The first song I really wrote [for the album] was ‘Blue Summer,’” Carolyn says. “I was thinking about this summer camp I went to as a kid. It involves one of those sad summer afternoons where you think something’s gonna happen—and then someone doesn’t show up and you can’t say goodbye.” 

The Bandcamp notes for Guide to the Unusual read in part: “Mt. Fog created this album while singing to herself on rainy walks during quarantine.” During our interview, Carolyn notes all of the songs on the album are “walking tempos.” She recorded the entirety of it in a Capitol Hill apartment.

“I definitely got some hate mail underneath my door,” Carolyn says. She mentions getting into an argument with a downstairs neighbor who made recordings of her singing—presumably as “evidence” of her “causing a nuisance,” even though she recorded all the vocals for the album during daytime hours. 

Guide to the Unusual dropped just before local rock clubs started opening back up in the wake of pandemic lockdown ending; arguably the perfect time for a burgeoning local star to test out their music for the live setting. I had the pleasure of seeing an early Mt. Fog gig; Carolyn opened for Echo Ravine at the old Tim’s Tavern (on the northern edge of Greenwood) days before that location shut down. Even as a solo act, Mt. Fog had a sound and presence that filled the room and just about floored everyone in attendance.

Sells attended his first Mt. Fog performance at the Lucky Dime in Everett. He’d heard of Carolyn’s project through a recommendation from Seattle underground stalwart, Afrocop bandmate, and now one of the hosts of KEXP’s Jazz Theatre, Noel Brass Jr. Sells recalls, “[He] said, ‘Carolyn’s cool; she’s a ‘head,’ she’s like us.’” 

For the uninitiated, a “head” is a music lifer; a deeply knowledgeable and still-curious music fan who would be playing, recording, writing about, taking photos of, or otherwise involved with music even if there was no financial or social reward for doing so. While most musicians nowadays are extremely media savvy and know exactly what to say depending on who they’re talking to, all the heads know who the other heads are. 

“Seeing [Carolyn] perform made a big difference for me,” Sells said about seeing Mt. Fog live, playing songs from her second album Spells of Silence. “I was like, ‘Oh, this is really special.’ Musically, energetically.” He mentions dub, Afrobeat, and Timbaland again when discussing Carolyn’s self-produced work; particularly how the beats find corners not often used in pop or rock music. 

Sells says directly to Carolyn, “I think your beats are super interesting and… they’re tough to get my head around sometimes. I’m like, ‘Shit, I gotta play this.’ [laughter] It was a unique challenge to me, having played drums for like 38 years every day. It’s unconventional, but additionally, quite rhythmically sophisticated to my ear.” 

Rosebridge remembers becoming friends with Carolyn shortly before the single and music video for Spells of Silence leadoff track “Behind a Silent Door” was released. (Par for the course with musicians occupying the same scene, they met while playing a show together; Rosebridge was in the band Catch Rabbit.) 

Spells of Silence in particular cycles through a host of moods; tonally, vocally, lyrically. One lyric that stands out in particular is at the start of the second verse of the scintillating “Ingot in the Dark,” which goes: “I want to be sincere / I want to be a friend to those in need / But I’ve got some needs myself.” This bundle of words alone emphasizes an emotional complexity which peeks out from the shadows of Mt. Fog songs more often than you think if you only have a surface awareness of Carolyn’s songwriting. 

In the midst of bottling up her feelings and taking vows of silence, comparing herself to bodies of water, and being chased down by different versions of herself, Carolyn ends Spells of Silence with the aptly-titled “Unexpected Happiness.” It’s a vital dose of optimism in the face of this insane world we live in; faintly nihilistic and satirical, sure, but those emotions merely peek from behind the notion of holding onto joy when it happens—because you never know how long you might go before that next moment comes. 

After Spells of Silence was brought into the world, Mt. Fog crossed into a realm the project ostensibly couldn’t turn back from: Sells and Rosebridge—the latter had jammed with Carolyn for fun previously, which sparked an undeniable musical chemistry—played a show as part of Mt. Fog for the Spells of Silence vinyl release party. It was only supposed to be one show, according to Rosebridge. Carolyn interjects, “I was like, ‘Yeah guys, so, like, what about if we play another show next month—and another show… and I also have some new songs…’”

Sells remembers being sent a demo folder with nearly fifty files in it.

Carolyn didn’t think about putting together a live band until after Spells of Silence was complete. She references the previously mentioned Rob Moura interview and says talking to him about the possibility was the impetus for her to consider it. Rosebridge was already on board, and Carolyn’s spouse at the time asked Sells if he’d be interested in drumming for the band during her performance on a bill she shared with him (he was pulling double duty, one of the acts was his solo/revolving door project Select Level) at the Lucky Dime. “I had seen Andy perform with Afrocop in 2018 and had been a big fan,” Carolyn says. “I was very intimidated, never talked to him [prior], and, you know, he looks really scary when he plays drums! [laughs]”

Carolyn says she spent half an hour working on the Instagram DM she sent to ask Sells to play what was originally intended to be the one-off Spells of Silence vinyl release show. After Sells said he was interested, Carolyn sent him and Rosebridge “a really long email” while starting to think of the fun possibilities of being in a band—something she had never experienced in all her years playing music.

Although Carolyn alluded to a learning curve in terms of leading rehearsals (being, you know, the band’s primary songwriter and all), continuing to invite Sells and Rosebridge to play shows with her naturally led to talking to them about remaining a band for the foreseeable future. In our interview, she was forthright in her assertion that being in a band made her a better musician. “I felt like the world had been keeping a secret from me,” she says about the joy she had experienced from being in a band.

Of course, the music itself was only part of what has been rewarding about Carolyn, Sells, and Rosebridge being in a band together. About bands in general, Sells says it’s like being in a gang. With Rosebridge’s “throuple” comment still in the forefront of my mind, I compared it to being in a group marriage of sorts.

“I mean, we definitely need each other at certain moments,” Sells says. “It’s not always an easy lifestyle.” He mentions some of the inconvenient truths of being in a band, from dragging gear around to trying to get paid by the promoter. “Most people are not meanies. Most people are lovely, but every once in a while you encounter some ding-dongs; just mean, mean people.” 

Rosebridge notes the band became very close very quickly, due to the fact that all three of the band’s members got divorced around the timeframe Mt. Fog became a full-fledged band. “There [were] a lot of group hugs and crying,” Carolyn adds. (Sometime during that process, Sells and Carolyn became romantically involved with each other. They are still partners to this day.)

“I really think that whether people realize it or not, the internal dynamic that you have as a creative group defines the energy you put outward,” Rosebridge says. He and Sells note that even though some bands try to fabricate closeness, you can’t fool your audience into thinking you’re best friends.

In a way, that translates significantly to the recordings that make up ultraviolet heart machine, Mt. Fog’s third album and first as a trio. Culled from the over four dozen demos Carolyn had recorded (as Sells had remarked about earlier) from demos she recorded in a basement in the Maple Leaf neighborhood of Seattle. “It’s basically a breakup album, but [it’s] also about falling in love,” Carolyn says. “Because that’s what was happening to me.” 

ultraviolet heart machine opens with the single “Drifting,” a peppy pop tune conjuring images of building a moat around one’s life and hiding in the crevices of a shared existence; it’s essentially about protection against the things that hurt us. As with all of Carolyn’s songwriting, the lyrics being sung—sometimes with a coo, or a shout, or a vamp, or an outright scream—are evocative and at points, outright oblique. Therefore, how they directly deal with Carolyn processing matters of the heart lies in the ear of the beholder. But now and again, Carolyn is strikingly direct, like on the second verse of “Cosmic Things,” when she sings, “When I know you better, I will tell you things.” 

The method for recording the album is one Carolyn described as “maximalist at first.” She says, “Don’t hold back because you could always edit later.” From the ambient “Interlude 1 (Morphing)” to the subtle groove of “Soft Center,” ultraviolet heart machine is filled with warm tones, flourishes of sound that appear and never reappear, and a clean sparseness that emphasizes the loneliness some of its songs convey, as well as the space and quiet an organism needs to undergo metamorphosis. 

As ultraviolet heart machine gets more time to settle out in the world (having been out for just over a month at press time), the members of Mt. Fog have been thinking about what music they’ve been fleshing out lately. I got a little preview on a trip to Carolyn and Sells’s home in Everett, where they jammed on a couple of works-in-progress for me. [Writer's Note: All of the photos for this feature were taken there.] The new songs are a bit jazzier, a bit funkier than Mt. Fog’s material has been previously; some songs also lean into Carolyn’s father’s musical love when she was a child: prog rock.

Mt. Fog’s leader has been feeling mischievous apparently, because many of her current demos have working titles with the word “goblin” in them. Actual goblins have yet to be worked into the actual subject matter, and her bandmates think these working titles are funny. They’re floored by the music itself. At KEXP, Rosebridge says to Carolyn, “I’ve really been impressed with your ability to jump into a whole different framework. The way you were making music when we first started playing together versus now, there have been several major alterations in the way you’ve approached the writing.”

Each member of Mt. Fog, but Carolyn in particular, spoke about the difficulty of recording ultraviolet heart machine, noting that it mostly came from a big transitional period in all of their personal lives. A lot of processing, a lot of growing pains. Natural for the person who wrote a stunner called “Slowly Morphing.” The pain is how you know you’re growing, and for Mt. Fog, the important thing to note is how they’ve grown, and continue to grow, together.

Throwaway Style’s Pacific Northwest Albums Roundup

Spiral XP - I Wish I Was a Rat

Is Spiral XP a supergroup? A “second group”? One thing’s for sure, even though the band is led by Versing’s Max Keyes and features Coral Grief’s Lena Farr-Morrissey (if I had to select a Seattle indie all-star team, both would very likely be in my starting lineup), they’re too notable to be designated a mere side project. After three great EPs over the past three years (not to mention a pretty fantastic live show), the band has finally released their debut full-length. Though shoegaze can often be interpreted as code for “using a dozen effects pedals to cover up for a lack of good songwriting,” I Wish I Was a Rat is melodically rich and tightly structured, using analog recording for a warmth to add to the delectably fried textures and low-in-the-mix vocals. 

If you’re like me and have been waiting years for Spiral to put out an album, allow me to assure you it was well worth the wait; it’s absolutely one of the best Northwest releases of the year.

Greg Cypher - Hello, I Must Be Going

If you’re what might be called a “Throwaway Style Day One,” you’re already well aware that Seattle’s own Greg Cypher has been a favorite of the column since before I took it over. We’re long removed from the dissolution of Kung Foo Grip, but ever since, Cypher has been toiling away at his craft; wrecking stages and dropping multiple releases a year (he was involved with three of them just last year). Surprisingly his only full-length of 2024, the entirely self-produced Hello, I Must Be Going uses breezy instrumentals as the backdrop for Cypher to lay out his worldview; full of weed smoke, colorful shit-talk, and searing insights about the divisions that crop up not just here in Seattle, but all over America (during election season, no less!). I have my doubts that we’re going to have much sun left in the year, but Hello, I Must Be Going would be perfect for the waning bright days. Throw on your sunglasses, turn the heat in your car all the way up, and go on a long drive with this one.

Chinese American Bear - Wah!!!

In my Throwaway Style feature on Seattle pop duo Chinese American Bear, I described the music of partners (in both music and life) Anne Tong and Bryce Barsten as “a sugar rush of an album akin to wolfing down two handfuls of penny candy as soon as you escape the grocery with your receipt.” There is no dark turn for the group on their much-anticipated second full-length; Wah!!! (English translation: Wow!!!) is full of the delicious treats (“Pink Strawberry”), cute dates (“Weekend in Chinatown”), and dirty winks (“Yummy Yummy Yummy”) that made their self-titled debut so great. The musical arrangements and production are a cut above, with alluring guitar and synth work and little psychedelic flourishes that go even farther to prove that Chinese American Bear is no novelty act; they’re simply one of the very best pop groups this region has to offer.

Lord OLO & Televangel - Demon Slayer

In case you’re new to the column (or just haven’t been paying that much attention for the past couple of years), Televangel has been pretty busy. Between Milc, AJ Suede, and Nacho Picasso, the Portland-via-Bay Area boardsmith has become arguably the top rap producer in the worldwide hip-hop underground’s Northwest chapter. He’s already helmed multiple albums since last year’s Milc-starring The Fish That Saved Portland, and his latest is a psychedelic opus alongside Lord OLO, a gifted Ohioan who has spent a few years making inroads toward bridging the Northwest and Midwest. Fitting in with the vibe of Televangel’s production is the fact that OLO sings as much as he raps; autotune floating in and out alongside the woozy beats and simultaneously fulfilling his long-established vibe as a seeker in his raps. It’s the spiritual, existential stroke of creativity perfect for the dark months we’re now entering.