Technology, affordability, delicacy -- the hallmark of many artists able to go ahead and record whatever they wanted wherever they wanted towards the 20th century's end, and to do so without having to feel the need to rock out. falls squarely into this category, as his lovely album demonstrates. Eight tracks long, featuring guest vocalists throughout but otherwise all him, finds an attractive intersection point between 's bedroom meditations (minus the heavy duty weirdness) and ' rough, low-key beauties. Shuffling beats, softly plucked guitar and piano, buried, slightly distorted singing, and more call to mind a sweet, lovely soundscape. As opposed to the defiantly '60s retro-isms of many neo-winsome pop bands of the '90s, seems to progress more from the likes of and a clean, crisp mid-'80s feel, understating wherever possible. 's sense of arrangement is charmingly, beautifully elegant and melancholy; one example is the mid-song verse of whose muffled rhythms, low, reverbed guitars, string synths, and singer 's soft, half-whispered work come together just so. Then there's the relentless but still calm drive of the title track, danceable and relaxing all at once, and the concluding a sweet, wistful instrumental that lives up to its name, drum machines and all. starts the album and is a charming wonder, a slow sonic progression that takes its own pace and time to unfold. An interesting diversion appears four tracks in with the one cover on the album -- 's glam anthem/ballad The pace initially remains the same, but a quicker dance beat emerges with the second verse, all while keeping the weirdly dreamy atmosphere of the original song via acoustic guitars and other soft touches. ~ Ned Raggett