A slow-grooving, cinematic portrait of displacement, Living in Our Cars (Pt. 1) captures what it means to survive at the edge of the system with nothing but a vehicle, a voice, and a signal. Erich’s spoken-word English verses paint a world of quiet rebellion and worn-down resilience — where people live out of their cars, not just because they have to, but because it’s the last place that’s still theirs.
The female voice on the radio, speaking in Spanish, delivers philosophical fragments, emotional cautions, and cryptic wisdom — including a reference to Wittgenstein’s famous line: “If one cannot speak, one must be silent.” These transmissions float through the mix like signals from another realm — maternal, distant, maybe divine.
Wordless female vocalizations weave in and out, acting as a ghostly counterpoint — a reminder of something tender and human within the asphalt exile. The chorus, deceptively simple and melodic, becomes a mantra for this new reality: Living in our cars with the radio on…