Imagine a Beck album tucked away between “One Foot In The Grave” and “Stereopathetic Soul Manure”. One that features no vocals as such but otherwise bears all the hallmarks of the king of lo-fi. Weird samples, background noise, muttering and all sorts of other distracting elements that could throw the listener off the scent of what are essentially great little songs (albeit recorded through a Dictaphone that has been thrown in a puddle about a mile away from the action). I didn’t realise I liked this album until “Bimbo’s Lament” came sauntering into my ears. A lo-fi acoustic guitar refrain that is paired with a … what ? I think it’s a backward flute (or flute like instrument). It’s quite difficult to tell what it is but it’s a beautiful haunting little tune, one of those things that suddenly throws the rest of the album into perspective. There are a few other highlights on the album as well (the weird off kilter synths of “Mothership” and “Summer Love Tale” which come over like some sort of shattered Boards of Canada demo) but basically this is an album to invite into your brain on a regular basis. It may not take off its shoes and there may be a funny smell when it leaves but its shambolic chaotic style is utterly venerable and a perfect antidote to the anodyne state of most modern music. 

78,000 dodecahedrons

Kim Monaghan