Artist Jonathan Dueck deserves a gold star for his artwork on this album, as he properly captures what will take 150 words to describe: tye-dyed skulls, swollen hearts, cassettes photoshopped with oversaturated colors, a horizon overtaken by blue trees and what appear to be Legos and two photos of Rafter Roberts, one from the headphones up, one at a four-track recorder sums up this collage-work album. Following a poppier, less liberally disjunct direction than his previous record, Roberts now first seduces with cooing vocals, lulling you with gorgeous timbre in front of a backdrop of, say, Mariachi rhythms and drums constructed from thumping a microphone ("Casualty of BOC"). Alright, maybe you could use the tag "unconventional" here, but Roberts's confidence on the microphone, both lyrically and vocally, is a terrific addition to his lawless instrumentation, and he furthers his mythology as the guy taking Beck's early experiments where they could have gone.
