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"... Virot shows that Lyon, France has as many cornfields as Brooklyn, and as many girls with cornflower eyes. Here's the sound of a basement temper tantrum, pop shaken crazed from a cheap acoustic guitar. In three minutes and eleven seconds he goes from madness to serenity, giving up on lunacy in favour of sweet contentment. "And-oh-uh-ooh-oo-oooooohŠ", like all you need to stop from going mad is to notice the bluejays, bluebells, clouds."

This collection of yelps and piquant guitar strums heralds the arrival of New World freak folk on The Continent. A surprisingly sparse document of Virot's fragile mentality the clapping , campfire myth is stoked for the millionth time. How is it that a
person and an acoustic guitar can create such magic? Modest but not at all mousy, the breathy vocals in the left channel collide with warbled squeals doubling in the right side. Modern spookiness with one man sounding like Frank Black and Brian Wilson singing a duet , reminding that folk music is rooted in harmony and dissonance, beauty and death, yes and no.