Play it once and it will likely confound you. Play it twice, and you
will fall long and hard for a cracked pop album that sometimes
recalls the equally cracked psychedelic rock of the late Syd Barrett.
Fischoff seems to be responsible for all the music on his album,
which includes multi-tracked and treated vocals and all kinds of odd
sounds, from chimes and very old-fashioned organ to trippy (not
trip-hop) rhythms and weird little guitar bits and pieces. Some of
Fischoff's music reminds me of blown leaves, or rain hitting a window
or splattering into a puddle; of staying up way too late or waking at
3 A.M. and wandering, still half asleep, through the dark house. At
times the album is quiet and contemplative ("We Break Up and Watch
the Angels Swim"); at other times the pace picks up, heading into
English Music Hall territory ("Propaganda for a Comic Strip"). Mostly
the music here is awesomely beautiful, like that abalone shell you
picked up off the beach while walking with your lover.