Kelly Murphy's lyrics are a fevered search for a trap door in the root cellar of her heart. Digging in the pitch-black dirt of sordid relationships and leaving claw marks on the backs of her captors, she regales us with stories of inner personal battles on the wind of her golden pipes. Accompanied by Thom Hall driving riffs on guitar that, depending on where, can be construed as descending into or climbing out of crescendos. The railing to these ladder riffs if there were such a thing, acting as a safety device throughout the whole album, is Jeff Fox on bass. Nothing sly about his bass playing because this here bastard plays as subliminally as a kick in the teeth. And he has to in order to keep up with and tie together the heart pounding drums of Nathan Pallace. Wonderful really. What more can I say? This band is so tight I'd swear they were illegal to look at. But they're not. The resume of each band member is enough to give lift to any upstart band. The fact that these four are playing together brings to the forefront the possibilities of professionalism among unsigned, under-the-radar bands. Their shit is together.