Since coal-dust Central Coast to the tight confines of a recording studio, hard labour, perseverance and sheer determination to make music has seen Stryker carve his niche. Entertainment is not all about making music to him, it is all about surviving himself. The song Lucid Dreaming is an aftermath of his longest relationship which was a love that had taken roots following his accepting sobriety. In Stryker, sobriety was not the beginning of order, but the beginning of clarity–a clarity that put beauty and pain in startling focus. The song was made in Habitat Studios Productions and is a reminder of the power of collaboration: a crew whose raw energy was as open as Stryker was barehearted in what she was writing.

Lucid Dreaming is not a game to be forgotten, it stays on. Alexander Davis here, and I can tell you this one is more like you are wandering through the memories of the person with a flashlight in your hands. It is the beat, trap-infused but not overwhelming, which allows the voice of Stryker to cut through, in an almost confessional way. You can sense the sleepless nights that he had over her, the silence of the lunch break in the coal mine where he scribbled lines in his phone. It is not and is not a love song in the Hallmark-cut. It is the type of love song you compose when you feel the fingerprints of the particular individual are still on your life, although not on your skin.