After Ursula K Le Guin's Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction Humans collect things and plunder. They collect things which are useful, edible, healing, beautiful. They bundle them up into a knapsack, a basket of woven sticks, a net of hair, wrap them in bark, pour them in a ceramic vessel. Then they take them home, another sort or container for humans (and some plants and animals). They eat it or share it or store it for winter, in the medicine cabinet, shrine, church, museum. A compilation is a collection of songs gathered and heaped together. And within each song is an artist's archive, containers of their own. Gleams from an old Ableton project, a line in an old notebook, a sample, a field recording, a phrase graffitied on a wall, a feeling in their belly, reverb at the end of a note, something stuck in their throat, the timbre of a very old and borrowed cello. Parceled up to make a song. A song that is rebundled by the listener: a song for heartbreak, a song to walk and enjoy the spring air, a song to inspire another song, a song for a long journey, a sweaty night out. A compilation that truly reflects the scenic route: meandering pathways, rabbit holes and a way to contain many possible worlds.