In Antarctica is made of FRIENDS. It is made of music, but it is also made of laughing and not-getting-anything-worthwhile-done and l o n n n n n g debates about MUSIC+ART and music as (he)art and a lot of other things that none of us really knows about. In Antarctica is made of a LOT of other bands. Ones that we all-love and ones that we some-love and ones that we don't love so much at all. It is made of about a dozen (12) different instruments that we’re still learning to play properly. It is made of 1s that have done this before and 1s that did other things before but who fit right in and know just what to say and sing and play. In Antarctica is made of as much TRUTH as it can nail/glue/scotch-tape together but also a lot of silly pretensions and its fair share of LIES (only some of which are on purpose). In Antarctica is from Ottawa, but it is also from a farm field off a dirt road some where; from a small town and from a big city; from both coasts; from nowhere. In Antarctica loves its FRIENDS and its FAMILIES and also its GHOSTS. It thinks it is very small and also thinks it is hugely important and neither of these things is true. In Antarctica loves like a fucking hurricane. In Antarctica cries when bad things happen dances all night. It is only what it is and nothing else. It is a band and it is a caravan and it is a secret. In Antarctica can’t go on without you.