One’s existence hinges on past generations – we are what has come before. I gradually began to grasp this thought after inheriting my grandmother’s old farm. Five generations’ worth of personal possessions; land that had sustained my forebearers. Clearing the impenetrable brush, and sorting through buildings bursting with artifacts, felt like a long ritual filled with layers, layers, and more layers. In between this physical, emotional work, I spent time in my seaside studio randomly wiring modulars, experimenting with my voice, and strumming old vermona organ, just as a spontaneous reflection of my thoughts or, at times, as an imaginary reunion of relatives. Those sessions eventually became Hinged, a record deserving of its very specific bilingual title – in Estonian, it means departed spirits and soul; in English, a link that holds things together. These songs are a thread between the two meanings, and a summation of a year spent exploring my family history and my place in it.