School Of The Flower kicks off with a cacophony that brings to mind the noodlings of free jazz impresarios the Chicago Art Ensemble. After a minute and a half it subsides to gentle folk reflections played out over hushed vocals and acoustic guitars with electric drones and muted feedback.
“St. Cloud” sounds like Thurston Moore ingesting a bathtub full of qualudes and deciding to bliss out for while, while other cuts like “Home” play like a Galaxy 500 7″ at 33 1/3. The rest comes off as a subdued collection of Nick Drake outtakes (what acoustic folk albums don’t these days?). Thing is, I mean all this in the best possible way. It’s a fantastic album with clever arrangements and a resolute approach that evokes placidity.