Morby's well-promulgated Dylanflection doesn't carry over word-wise, prompting his sorta-sagely demeanor to come off rickety, nebulous; and perhaps the least felicitous for sorta-sageness, pedestrian. Not so much to become bothersome, but rather kinda conducive to further savoring the substantial deployment of a femme-vox triad and the oft-lovely instrumental implementation. Slow-n-sparse strings-toting echo-folk suits him fine, but the doses of behavioral breakouts are vital: psych+dub fuzz and piano-trance amid mountaineering and singing saws cutting down trees, actual singing saws weepin' and wailin', a sexy sax slink-in during "Destroyer", the oh so essential dirty rosy medial romp of "Dorothy". Would be good to see his singing become as seductive as all the saws-n-stuff tho.
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