"Heart racing. Shooting straight up. In bed. 3:30pm. It's hot. The fan isn't working, and yesterday, the AC exploded. If you get out of bed you have to get out of bed. To get out of bed you have to get out of bed." This is the beginning of a mail from Tearist's awesome Yasmine Kittles. She's talking about their claustrophobic fever dream Closest Furthest, a piece of conceptual punk-art wrapped in unsettling honesty. "This song happened exactly the way I sing it," she says. "Every line."