a mixture of guitar pop and electronic mindfudgery that at times totally works and at times totally doesn't. which parts work and which parts don't are more a function of the listener. i'm really not feeling track uno, "bicycle" while i love the static cackle of "whiskey for water". my wife reported the opposite.

nice and varied however. we drop from pop to static to drudgeful lonely cart racing my heart into ouchy fun dangles. it breaks and then i find myself using a metal detector to pick up the foolish parts. wow. robots. horns.

more spooky, but spooky jazz drum and bass. sax fifth my ravenous tackled avenue out the barnacle head and swear me in. strolling down thine boulevard upon 8-bit swing crooning the fog fantastic.

what kind of record is this again?

we'll see.

beats connect. reverso chorus. survey the channels. alien guitar solo keeps us happy with this time slicing algorithm.

is it time for another pop song? esquivel's pulling out the static fandango and curling up the space ramp for immediate departure.

twelve kinds of recording room sounds nurture us down waltzy space lanez lined with oaken elephant satellites heaving in binary tracer rays.

focus rays.

"my freind the crow" trills my brittle cold pacemaker and stirs my jaded whirrable back to heartling hurtling hearthy ert. banjo and circuit dribble to the woe whicka and snappy tat, hip, young liveable, and when the big howl in my left ear cries, my argentina breaks right off. it's wonderful.

and then it beats hard and strumms very verily. my wife likes this one. i'm feeling mean at the moment... "you'll never win, he says." always the bad guy.

ahh... then some low ... oh wait, the lofi sound i was about to write about just ended into purely wonder recorded post-space rock loops and now we drop into all ways for all people. (see mom, it is possible.) great looping divergences and convergences.

"up close and in the light" has pretty piano. we're suckers for these things. this is the one you both enjoy before you and yours turns off the radio for the evening. who says there's no room for slow dances anymore? 8/10 -- Matt Perkins (23 October, 2006)