I've yet to work out how a man so obsessed with morbidity can manage to go through daily life, let alone make a record as masterful as David Thomas Broughton vs. 7 Hertz just two years later. But it happened, and my world has been a brighter/darker place because of it. So this is where it all started, then, the debut; overarching guitar noise, vocals loops violently spiralling away from even your peripheral vision, unwritten lyrics that delve deep into so many thoughts that never should be thought: death, cannibalism, broken loves, rape - funereal folk of the high order. Yes, this is David Thomas Broughton. Assuming he survives long enough, he could be the unsung, unheralded genius figure of this decade. Except we are not ready, I feel.
As a side note, dedicating the album to the memory of John Peel was a beautiful touch.