Wrest’s limited releases and live shows are always dips into the unknown. As Blyth UK’s premier boundary overstepper and Dictaphone abuser, Wrest makes outsider music that makes other outsiders look like shameless Lady Gaga wannabes. This release comes on a wave of expectation that this could have been a much-discussed and locally legendary jaw-dropping musical set. No such luck on that front (though it is apparently in the pipeline), but his first solo vinyl release is still no disappointment.
Beginning with a huge orchestral sweep that summons images of deadly seriousness, it snaps without any decent warning into a recording of a volunteering and training meeting sporadically interrupted by Wrest’s interjections, comments, percussion and acoustic guitar. Somewhere between fucked-up stand-up, abandoned found sounds, overheard conversations and musical fumble, it might well be a switch from Wrest’s usual program but it’s every bit as bizarre and unexpectedly engaging. Repeated listens don’t reveal any kind of audio jiggery pokery, but they do reveal more about the characters here. So, why is this not just another odd field recording release? Because it’s Wrest, that’s why. 7/10 -- Scott McKeating (18 August, 2010)