Hilary Cousins spent time reading medieval mystics who expected resurrection at history’s end, then turned his gaze to the Mojave’s exposed geology—dry lake beds that were once oceans, sunbaked mounds that were snowcapped massifs. “Fragments” emerges from that collision between apocalyptic certainty and geological patience, asking what identity means when everything that makes you “you” is just borrowed particles from the Big Bang still traveling through space.

The LA-based songwriter structures the track as journey between worldviews. First half inhabits medieval perspective: God created everything in seven days, all of history will resurrect simultaneously. Second half embraces modern cosmology and evolutionary time, pondering how “Lucy”—humanity’s ancient ancestor known only through bone fragments—connects to whoever’s listening right now. The chorus cuts through both frameworks with simpler desperation: even personal qualities are just collections of fragments, yet we still reach for validation, still search for what makes us distinct from cosmic debris.
Cousins’ production—mixed by Mark Needham (The Killers) and mastered by Steve Fallone (Arcade Fire)—leans indie-pop rather than his typical acoustic work. Chris Ranney’s haunting keyboards combine with Paul “Binzer” Brennan’s steady drums and Tony Ungaro’s dynamic bass to create moody tension in verses that gives way to the chorus’s lilting release. Those glitchy synth motifs and lo-fi loops create tactile warmth despite astronomical subject matter.

The boldest lyrical move comes late: “The mystery of life flows through my veins, an ancient river from an endless rain”—acknowledging that Big Bang particles still course through living things. Science searches for how we became human; Cousins searches for what makes individuals matter when we’re assembled from universal fragments. He makes existential scale feel danceable, philosophical inquiry feel urgent. Released December 19, this is indie rock that refuses small questions.

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