When Dimitri Giannopoulos was a teenager, he thought he might be living in a dream. Alienated, anxious, and unsettled, he tried his hardest to process a world that he felt disconnected from. “I refused to believe anything I was seeing was happening to me or even happening at all,” he told Allston Pudding in 2016. “I was just freaked out by everything.” He says that he’s since outgrown his existential angst, but similar feelings have clearly found a home in the slow-moving gloom of the songs he makes in Horse Jumper of Love.
The forms of those songs have shifted occasionally over the years — from hushed, stripped-down recordings that recall Phil Elverum’s sky-gazing folk songs to distressed lo-fi experiments in the mold of Bedhead’s desperate slowcore to…

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