EIVIBLEIVI, the sign under which this album appears, starts from a simple conviction: music can open onto experiences that feel larger than the listener — sometimes devotional, sometimes destabilizing. Its emblem, a stylized magnetic field, hints at this pull without defining its source.

Self Service moves within that tension. The album folds spiritually inflected sound together with imagery pulled from corporate branding, religious merchandising, and self-optimization culture. These materials overlap in ways that are sometimes sincere, sometimes satirical, and often undecidable. Rather than delivering a message, the music lets these worlds contaminate each other, allowing the listener to sense where belief dissolves into spectacle and where spectacle slips back toward longing.

The visual identity follows the same logic. The cover — an unlabeled commercial building photographed as a church — proposes a double meaning of "service," without resolving whether it points upward, inward, or toward the marketplace.

Self Service doesn't explain its position, but stages it. What a listener finds in that space is meant to unfold gradually, and differently for everyone.