There was something special about that day.

Something about the way the sun was reflecting off the ice, glaring like the windows we had imagined the night before. Something about Benito chasing his new lady friend across the empty field and the trees still buzzing with fuzzy memories of neatly stacked structures swaying in the clouds. Something about how it felt to be living out the exact thing we were writing, without knowing how any of it would end.

Part-time masterminds. Five-day holidays. Watching the grass grow greener. This was it. And all that mattered was Kamikaze Baby and this album.

We never intended to write uptown VineRise this way. It just kind of happened over the last year. Scrawled on crumpled sheets of paper and scattered over tangled wires, empty hallways and bottomless pits of conversation.

So roll the opening credits. This is where the story begins.