AMY ANNELLE (the places): press

A starkly beautiful collection of dark avant-folk wanderings that can be eerily quiet and breathtakingly beautiful, Songs For Creeps mirrors the nomadic lifestyle of its maker. Known to sleep overnight in flop houses and trailer parks during long stretches of time on the road, Annelle's inspiration comes from places even creeps fear to tread. Utilizing vintage equipment and instruments, found sounds like bird calls and ghostly Native American chanting, and her own sweet voice, Annelle crafts wonderfully weird, macabre songs about fading love, murderous intentions, seers and
midnight explorations of abandoned sanatoriums. Tender acoustic passages like 'I¹m A-Gone Down to the Green Fields' play off the dream-like reverie and menace of 'My Weary Eye', while 'The Lion's Share', recorded in a one-room country shack, and 'Blessed Steed' are immersed in rustic dobro guitar stylings. The bastard child of P.J. Harvey and Tom Waits, Annelle is as adept at composing elegant country songs (the drifting 'Gold to Green') as she is at folk melancholy (the sweeping 'The Damn Insane Asylum'). She¹s a talent to watch.

Underground troubadour Amy Annelle’s well-documented penchant for recording in abandoned buildings might make for good stories. But like the subtle electronic flourishes and found sounds she folds into her fourth album as the Places (and sixth overall), her unusual working methods serve as mere enhancements for a limpid voice and skill set deeply rooted in traditional folk and country values. Still, the Portland, Oregon, native’s scrap-yard Americana consistently eschews the tried-and-true. “A lady lives next to me / She has some family,” Annelle twangs on the parlor waltz “Mercy Me,” as sweetly as any Nashville Pollyanna could aspire to. “Herdaughter’s ashamed of her / Stays half an hour on Christmas and her birthday.” The singer-songwriter’s narrative is compelling enough that you might not notice the gongs, drones and organ buttressing her guitar and vocals.
Even during overtly adventurous moments, as on “The Natural Arc,” Annelle keeps all her resources (including the handful of confederates who helped make Songs for Creeps) working in the service of Songs. Electronic rumbles, a vintage drum machine or two, a well-placed ratchet—all are subsumed in a prog-pastoralist vortex of charm... When Annelle sings “A glorious dawn is descending,” the soar-and-swoop is reason enough to go and buy everything she’s ever recorded. The distant doppelgänger response that follows her only sweetens the deal.

Amy Annelle’s music is haunted. You don’t need to be a psychic to tell this from her albums, which she releases both under her name and as the Places. Last year’s Songs for Creeps is aswim in spirits: A detached male voice opens the album, asking, “Are you there? Hello, hellooo…”; in “My Weary Eye,” one of the record’s more moving pieces, a Native American chant buried deep in the mix calls across the divide to underscore already weighty lyrics: “I know what’s waiting in these amber-colored octaves.… It’s what’s kept in my graveyard / A thousand bodies buried and no marker.”

The ghosts on Annelle’s records are literal; onstage they’re figurative, yet their presence is equally strong. A folksinger in the truest sense, Annelle and her high, lonesome, pretty voice seem to be from no particular time—more like many of them at once. Resembling someone who might’ve been hopping trains with Woody Guthrie, she transmits ages of American troubadour traditions in her performances. But if one of her roles is as a medium, it’s hardly a passive feat; the songs she covers come from and go in all directions. A recent compilation of them, Fawns with Fangs, includes selections by Bert Jansch, Elliott Smith, the Pretty Things and Syd Barrett, and at her last NYC show, an inspired reading of the folk classic “Blues Run the Game” invoked the essence of the original while flinging the song into the here and now. No need to fear these ghosts, though; just celebrate them.

For those who know Amy Annelle by the vast company she’s kept, “Songs For Creeps”, her sixth overall and fourth as the Places, may come as some surprise. With her standard band compliment stripped away, Annelle explores this oddball set of twisted folk tunes with the assistance of a handful of friends, chief among them Glass Eye bassist and producer Brian Beattie. Some of “Songs For Creeps” was recorded at Annelle’s Portland, Oregon home and the remainder by Beattie at his Wonder Chamber in Austin, Texas, but all of it features Annelle’s intersection of Gillian Welch’s Appalacian authenticity, Janis Ian’s confessional folk and and Tom Waits’ cross-genre bravado...Annelle is a brilliant desert troubadour with a dark and compelling vision.

Strange and not a little disturbing lo-fi americana

“Miner’s Lie”, the opening track on “Songs for Creeps”, is a jagged and discordant lo-fi homebrew (“below the welded iron crosses oh!/ the miners lie/waiting for you to die”) that promises an album of disturbing and challenging music. And so it transpires, and not only that, it’s one of the few albums that can genuinely be called unique. Recorded in strange places, on primitive equipment including 4 track cassette and with strange instruments (among them fake flute, pinewood diddle bow and raagini) it sometimes feels more like a collection of found sounds than an album. Amy Annelle’s breathy vocals (for the Places are she) flutter over the top, intoning strange snapshots of vision, where torn-off bird wings and abandoned insane asylums rub shoulders with a man made out of glass and seven magnitudes of stars go out. It’s the soundtrack to a desert night in a one horse town, with a neon motel sign that stutters on and off and life is not so much seen as glimpsed out of the corner of your eye. The odd track is more musically conventional, like the desert blues of “Blessed Speed” and the rurally folky “I’m A-Gone Down To the Green Fields”, but even then the lyrics are still dark and skewed. Annelle has a strange vision, she sees places and people differently, and it’s this not-quite-right-ness, this slightly off-focus-ness, that makes “Songs For Creeps” such a compelling listen.

"The Places are a dark, backwoods folk group featuring the voice and songwriting of Amy Annelle. Her lo-fi, atmospheric recordings are produced with help from Brian Beattie, and are largely homemade. The instrumentation is mostly traditional with lap steel and dobro. But Annelle sweetens the mix with haunting harmonies, drum loops and eerie, distant voices, creating the sense that something very, very bad is lurking beneath the surface"

"Last year's Songs for Creeps was a dramatic exit from her Hush Records days...Creeps is, well, creepy at times, as it shuffles about like a cursed spirit, a doomed voice lost in a void of dead air and negative space"

"The Places' songwriter Amy Annelle has taken her music in a whole new direction with the dark experimental folk of Songs for Creeps. Almost all of the chosen selections for the evening were taken from the newest album, featuring plenty of loud bursts of disjointed drumming and distorted guitar interspersed with long bouts of Annelle's haunting, atmospheric vocals. She has definitely entered a less accessible or under appreciated realm of songwriters, but has also pushed the boundaries of what could be considered folk music by integrating aspects that are more common in noise and experimental music"

Perpetually touring Oregon-via-Texas singer-songstress Amy Annelle (a/k/a the Places) has rearranged the furniture on her newest, Songs For Creeps...she stomps via fuzzy acoustic blues, often woozy and mellow but sometimes sparking like a weirder, druggier Folk Implosion. A great voice and a dexterous tunesmith.

The word "folk" is often tossed about when describing Amy Annelle's music, presumably because the acoustic guitar is such a dominant instrument and because her poetic lyrics don't fit within any sort of easy pop categorization. However, such a label doesn't take into account the surreal atmospheres and haunting textures that loom throughout her music, which is as ambient and spacious as that from any proper "ambient" musician.

Annelle's songs encapsulate entire tiny little worlds of sound, conjuring up dim images of broken down places and darkened rooms pregnant with memory and longing. Field recordings, samples, broken snippets of conversation, and radio and television footage add to these images, creating lived-in spaces where the inhabitants have since packed up and moved on, leaving behind spiritual and emotional debris that Annelle then slowly picks through and documents.

Songs For Creeps is Annelle's 6th solo disc, and the 4th under The Places moniker, and though it starts off on a rollicking, raucous note, it soon settles into Annelle's typical eerie hush. Waves of crackling static, tape hiss, and the distant sounds of Native American chanting and fiery sermons immediately remove "My Weary Eye" from reality, instead positing it into some darkened parallel world -- a world that small children sometimes stumble into as they make their way through darkened rooms, rooms full of shadows and pools of inky night that may hide danger or wonder, but which nevertheless beg to be explored.

Sometimes ghosts are summoned by Annelle's otherworldly music. As she sings "I've seen the holes burned into these walls/By the eyes of the lonely/Who've long ago given up calling for mercy/Oh mercy me", the organ comes wheezing alongside, sighing like those broken souls of whom Annelle sings. Annelle's lyrics show a remarkable eye for detail, picking up on those fragments that communicate her subjects' brokenness ("A lady lives next to me/She has some family/Her hair is still blond, though her body has softened/Her daughter's ashamed of her/Stays half an hour on Christmas and her birthday").

The gorgeous, golden lilt of a lap steel glides through "Gold To Green", and a little sunlight pierces the album's sunset haze. Annelle's quivering voice is as breathy as ever, possessing a certain longing heartache as she sings an ode to autumn's coming ("September is but a half-month/Just time enough to sweetly wave goodbye to lives lived by golden hours on lovers' isles"). The song ends with Annelle pleading "Stay with me my faded angel/We'll turn the leaves from gold to green/This is no time to take your leave/The sun can live inside/Stay...", the lap steel responding with its lovely tones.

Even when Annelle isn't arresting you with her lyrics, the music is always enthralling, with acoustic guitars and backing atmospherics drifting by on even such choppy tracks as "The Natural Arc". But more often than not, she's hitting you between the eyes with such poigant nuggets as "The Damn Insane Asylum", which finds several restless types trying to find an abandoned insane asylum, but instead finding "a planned community from the seventies/An unclimbable wall around where the asylum wreck should be".

But it's not just about urban sprawl. The metaphor also serves to describe her characters, restless people courted by sex and cocaine, people with pristine exteriors but hiding "quietly rotting shame and misery". Such a dramatic turn could be ponderous and fall on its face, but Annelle's downwards-spiralling guitars and keys make it as graceful as can be. And the field recordings that fill up the song's spaces, and which linger on after the song is done, suggest that there are still wide open places of mystery out there, just waiting to be rediscovered and explored by such unique, sensitive, and beguiling songwriters as Annelle.

Amy Annelle, the singer, songwriter, and sole permanent member of the Places, traffics in narcotic dream-folk cut with aleatoric noise. Sometimes alone, sometimes accompanied by a revolving cast of musicians, she makes music both sordid and soothing, deadpan parables and sour lullabies inspired by the haunted places that she passes through between tour stops. On ‘Songs For Creeps’, Annelle sings about buried miners and speed-freak angels, lonely flophouses and unmarked graves. She harmonizes with herself on the gospel “Blessed Speed.” She can do a straight-up murder ballad (”My Weary Eye”), as well as an animalistic take on the same (”The Lion’s Share”). “The Damn Insane Asylum” sounds as if she’s singing from inside a dream through the use of a telephone microphone as she seems to equate nostalgia with insanity. An impressive listen from start to finish, ‘Songs For Creeps’ fits somewhere between Jenny Lewis’s recent solo effort and Bob Dylan’s ‘Highway 61 Revisited’.

While recording a guest spot for Okkervil River’s "Black Sheep Boy", Amy Annelle discovered the perfect compliment for The Places’ newest batch of eerie Americana sound collages in producer Brian Beattie. The resulting six songs make up a little over half of the new album Songs for Creeps alongside significantly embellished self-recordings and highlights of a recording session with Jay Pellicci (Deerhoof). The finished product is an album of adventurously crafted songs that still maintain their raw integrity.

What starts off as a woman and her guitar is disassembled, experimented with, added to, and recombined extreme makeover style. “A thousand bodies buried and no marker,” Annelle soothes on four track cassette over rustic instrumentation juxtaposed with shortwave radio and field recordings in My Weary Eye...Worse and Wise is penetrating. As Annelle reflects upon the return of a lover, savior--or both--who knows about her “nameless ache,” an eastern tinged ambient vibration competes with and finally overwhelms her crisp, delicate picking.

Annelle and Beattie display the best tag-team effort in The Natural Arc. It’s epic, and not just because it is over six minutes long. The duo uses an “everything and the kitchen sink” approach on a musical trip to three distinct destinations. Not only do the field recordings return, but Annelle and Beattie make use of a toy drum kit, but also stuff like Vibraslaps, Maestro Rhythm Kings, and an electronic sampler from India called the Raagini.

The sense of adventure in her choices of instrument and noisemaker is matched only by her lyrics and penchant for storytelling. While a lap steel guitar elevates the straightforward twang of the alt-country Gold to Green, it’s her imagery and descriptiveness that make Mercy Me’s lonely “blond lady” or the date with The Damn Insane Asylum’s “bellicose photographer” in Manhattan seem part of your own personal history. The Lion’s Share is an authentic, bare-bones, country cryer that reveals haunting overtones and lustful, sinister lyrics, while Such as the Earth is a Tolstoy influenced Bron-y-aur stomper.
Never before has Amy Annelle’s alter ego, The Places, been such a fitting moniker. On Songs For Creeps, it’s plain to see that Annelle has been around. She has hopes, regrets, and most of all, stories. However, what really separates Annelle from her counterparts is not the places she’s been, but the places where she takes her songs, or more importantly, where these songs may take you.

Feature Interview

The sixth album from Portland (Oregon)’s psychotic, side-show barker, Amy Annelle is an avant folk freak show and haunted hayride through Annelle’s fractured fairy folktales. From the claustrophobic anxiety of opener “Miners Lie” (a tribute, of sorts, to a catastrophic cave-in under which a group of dead “miners lie”) to the bluesy, backwoods tales of “Blessed Speed” and “The Lion’s Share,” featuring the whining dobro guitars of Paul Brainard and Annelle, respectively, “Songs For Creeps” is out just in time for Halloween and will be sure to scare the shit out of young Trick or Treaters.

Conventionally this record might be folk, psychadelic, avant-pop - more or less undefinable - but most of all it's got a grip on the sprawling, strange, optimistic, terrifying feel of open-road America, if you squint at it a little bit. If novelist Joy Williams made music it might sound like this - hard realism and unknown spirits mingling in a hazy daydream.

Amy Annelle, sole permanent member of The Places, has been putting out music for a while, but Songs for Creeps is the first to really capture the full scope of off-kilter dislocation and warm uneasiness she's been working towards. It's like a good collection of thematically linked short stories, the narrator chasing time and looking for a sense of place on the road, in tawdry boarding houses and changing seasons, and for those tuned to this wavelength, comforting in its total embrace of dreamy discomfort.


Annelle's trademark found sounds announce the album and float around the margins, adding layers of atmosphere (try headphones, especially on "My Weary Eye"). There's satisfaction here in the literal and the abstract, often in the same song; in clean, ringing twang ("Blessed Speed", a road ode with a vocal hook in the chorus that gives me shakes) and mood pieces thick with echoes and ghosts.

My current favorite track, "The Damn Insane Asylum", is a story of two strangers in New York on a party-refugee date searching for the title institution, but finding nothing but "a planned community from the seventies, and an unclimable wall around where the asylum wreck should be". It's got the appropriately gauzy, surreal feel of late-night, strange-city memories, and blunt, clever lyrics that flow a lot better than it seems they should.

None of this would really work without Annelle's vocals, here stretched in all directions, from the sly, close-in storyteller of "Asylum", to intense bad-dream creep-out ("Miners Lie!"). It's a perfect mix of otherworldy and organic, grounded and elusive.

It's best heard up close and personal, so try to catch The Places on their Fall tour. In the meantime, you can buy Songs for Creeps and start learning these fantastic songs.

...an angelic voice and an interest in dark, grainy visions of the American nightmare. The Places' new Songs For Creeps (High Plains Sigh) runs through sprawling songs that nod at Will Oldham, Johnny Cash and Fairport Convention...Annelle captures the ominous, awesome feeling of storms rolling across the plains, with the sun periodically breaking through"

Amy Annelle, the singer, songwriter, and sole permanent member of the Places, traffics in narcotic dream-folk cut with aleatoric noise. Sometimes alone, sometimes accompanied by a revolving cast of musicians, she makes music both sordid and soothing, deadpan parables and sour lullabies inspired by the haunted places that she passes through between tour stops, forgotten cities peopled by softening blondes, blue-eyed saviors, sore losers, saps, and liars. The band name might be somewhat drab, but it’s apt: The Places flit from place to place until all the landmarks disappear, until regional distinctions give way to a charged interiority. Wherever it is, the place these songs reside, it’s always already elsewhere.

On Songs for Creeps, the Places’ fourth album, Annelle sings about buried miners and speed-freak angels, lonely flophouses and unmarked graves. More varied, if perhaps less cohesive, than 2004’s Call It Sleep, Creeps compiles rinky-dink four-track home recordings and busier, more polished efforts that came out of sessions recorded at the Wonder Chamber, in Austin, Texas, where she worked with producer/collaborator Brian Beattie, and at John Vanderslice’s Tiny Telephone studio, in San Francisco. You can hear the distance and time, the errant, aimless happenstance of it all, each track a collage of blurry snapshots, a vagabond’s scrapbook. A passing airplane drifts into one song; muted laughter prefaces another. The songs are more about the spaces between than about the places themselves. Where are they going, and where have they been? How can you escape something that’s part of you?

Well, mostly you can’t. “The poison wells inside you, the poison well’s inside,” Annelle lilts in the opening track, “Miner’s Lie!” a dissonant dirge in which her voice, normally a diffident murmur, swoops and dips past the margins of her register while a detuned guitar throbs in the foreground like a rotten tooth. “The Lion’s Share,” a plangent country-blues ballad consisting only of Annelle’s voice and a Dobro, takes the predator’s point of view. She delivers her threats lazily, with an offhand sensuality: “Caught you with one paw, tore you open with one claw/ And your blood came out in waves till it was drained.” If relationships aren’t violent, they’re still probably doomed. In the scratchy telephone confessional “The Damn Insane Asylum,” she conflates a bad date with the inaccessible ruins of an old mental institution; in the lovely, lap-steel-embellished “Gold to Green,” she uses the changing of the seasons as a metaphor for a dying love affair.

From the deconstructed Bo Diddley-isms of “The Natural Arc” to the frayed folk of “I’m A-Gone Down to the Green Fields,” most of these songs are about escape, be it through sex, drugs, sleep, or death. It’s a bit jarring, in fact, that the album ends on a relatively hopeful note. “Such as the Earth (Neveroff’s Fate),” the second-to-last track, is based on a Tolstoy novel; lines such as “He was a man made out of glass/And clear I see into him” glisten with a hallucinatory sweetness befitting the great humanist. The closing cut, “Worse & Wise,” is as close to an actual love song as Annelle is likely to get. Warbling like a slacker Joni Mitchell against a dainty finger-picked guitar, she recounts a conversation with a kindly prophet: “Darling, you are here for a reason,” he tells her, “Your only hope now is love.” There’s a strange drone surging through the song, a murky pulse that darkens but doesn’t disrupt the pretty surface. Whatever it is, it’s something she can’t shake off, something she must have brought along with her.

I'm not sure what it is about Amy Annelle and the Places; in one foul stroke of a smartly produced album, she (and they) have the ability to redefine the sound of noisy folk. She did it with her solo record A School of Secret Dangers, and here with Songs for Creeps.


I mean, they're obviously your standard folksy songs dressed up; ample extra noise and instrumentation and all that, but on a whole other level they're masterpieces. More so than most noise-folk progenitors these days, The Places have a handle on exactly how they want to sound—there's no out-of-place moments on the whole album...with a lot of noise-folk type bands, the noise they insert is generally pleasing pops and blips, harmonics and tech things going on. With The Places, it's almost as if rather than adding these things they're leaving something in; the weird guitar noises that are often removed or hushed in production, as well as the sort of all-at-once recording hiss, drum reverb, and note clashes. Plus, of course, strange note bends and distortion pedals...What we get, then, is a sort of dingy monster of a record rather than a shiny pill of a record.

...On Songs for Creeps The Places clearly demonstrate their ability to evolve, offering a record that will alienate some, but should we welcomed by fans of avant-garde folk, noise, or simply those who like to see the constraints of music expanded and flexed.

Like 'OK Computer', Radiohead's magnum opus, Amy Annelle's latest album is awash with swirling eddies of atmospheric paranoia, self-derision, doubt and longing. Those feelings are wrapped in a warble that sounds neither here nor there — as if the singing is an exorcism of demons we'll never know or comprehend. But with Songs for Creeps, we at least catch glimpses of them.

You see, the human mind is a strange thing. When left to its own, its strangeness is amplified. Connections, fears and dependencies are called forth from dormancy. Songs for Creeps is an exercise in this. It is an album for the solitary, rife with society's hidden undercurrents and bristling with melodies for the discarded, abused, and abusers. Lines like "…speed! Enough blessed speed to keep us up for weeks!" and "There was cocaine and drinks aplenty…" are scattered throughout the proceedings like vignettes in a heroin dream — a modern-day Symphonie Fantastique, if you will.

Songs for Creeps makes prevalent use of minor modes, heightening the sense of delirium. Addiction is a central theme: addiction to drugs, troubled love, and despondency. In a self-aware moment, Annelle sings "the lines composed in sleep are the best that come to be. But fade, like a wave, they do, in the morning." In this way she expresses the artists' frustration of never being able to capture exactly what they intend. The hand inevitably muddles what the creative mind dictates.

Again and again, she references this notion. "I'm in the spotlight, can't do nothing right, I wear all my fears here on the outside." By the end, faced with persistent doubts and weakened will, her persona turns back to the usual crutches — "I'm a-gone get high."

In "Gold to Green" the mood shifts to a surprisingly uplifting melancholy. It's a winsome rumination on autumn, imploring lost (or former) lovers to linger. But inevitably, the exuberance of spring and summer give way to the death and decay of fall and winter. In fact, death seems to be another preoccupation with these songs. "Slit me up from gut to throat, and call it a victory," she sings in "Mercy Me." Or in "The Lion's Share," she takes the idea of emotional evisceration to its logical conclusion. "Tore you open with one claw/ Your blood came out in waves 'til it was drained/ Came and came 'til you were drained."

But even junkies can enter rehab, and like that promise of a better future, it all turns around by album's end. A mysterious love appears to root out all that was poisoning her heart. In this way, she has hope for the future. "He knows of my nameless ache, and how it grew to rule me, and how it all fell on deaf and dumb ears... he said 'darling, you are here for a reason. Your only hope now is love. And if you let it, it will fill the cracks and spring the traps that you set in circles 'round your worn-out broken heart... you will be set free when you know: you've been had by savage masters, jealousy and anger.'"

And so, despite a dark journey, there are brighter days peeking over the horizon — a lesson we could all stand to learn from time to time, I think.

...while her previous outing, Call It Sleep found her with the company of members of bands such as Death Cab for Cutie and The Decemberists, playing it sedate and jazzy, Songs For Creeps takes that album's sleepy folk and trades it in for a more raw and rustic sound, albeit augmented at times with torrents of fuzz and drum machine stomps.

The six minute opener "Miners Lie!" is practically bedroom Led Zeppelin in its rocked-out intensity, slow, trudging drum machine beats clashing with mega-distorted acoustic guitar clangs. What offsets this powerful crash of sounds is Annelle's voice, sweet and dreamy, yet strong enough to lead such an intense undertaking. As on Call It Sleep, however, Annelle's lyrics remain dark, asserting lines like "Where's all the mercury? Where's all the cyanide? The poison well's inside you, the poison well's inside." However, "Blessed Speed" and "The Lion's Share" sound more like a female version of Iron & Wine, rustic and bluesy, yet with a sweet and gentle folk presence. The former is a bit more upbeat, with slides-a-blazin', yet the latter is sparser, almost sounding like a vintage 78 in its lo-fi ambience.

"Mercy Me" adds some creepy electronic backing, taking a melody similar to "House of the Rising Sun" and making it far more eerie. "The Damn Insane Asylum" isn't for the faint of heart, however. While its melody is calm and pleasant, Annelle's lyrics tell a different story, one of finding an abandoned asylum, cocaine and fellatio. Meanwhile, "Such as the Fields" finds a muse in Tolstoy, its lyrics inspired by his Resurrection, much in the same way that Call It Sleep took inspiration from Henry Roth's novel of the same name.

Not all of Songs for Creeps is swathed in distortion. In fact, only small parts of it are. Because of this, however, the album is pocked with little surprises, mostly opting for a quieter sound, yet creating a clamorous din when least expected. Annelle has a good strategy here, and her literate, haunting lyrics make for even more dark joys. Sam Beam should try this sometime.

Similar Albums:
Microphones - The Glow, Part Two
Iron & Wine - The Creek Drank the Cradle
Smog - Wild Love

The Places - Songs for Creeps (High Plains Sigh)

...this is Amy's sixth album...and it is a truly compelling and unusual collection of recordings. She played most everything on the tracks and released it on her own High Plains Sigh label. Unlike many underground artists who seem intent on making unusual noise and passing off junk as songs...Annelle writes mature, thoughtful, extremely intelligent songs that are surprisingly accessible...A total artistic success, Songs for Creeps is an astounding collection... Highly recommended. (Rating: 5+++)

"Songs For Creeps is full of playful, ethereal sounds that are a dark and fantastical journey into the subconscious..."My Weary Eye" is almost indefinable, a track so subtly stacked with layer upon layer that it becomes a thing of maniacal beauty"