Pock-splish-tick. Cattail heads beating against a hollow log. Rain collecting in a bucket. Wall boards expanding in the heat. Someone humming. Wind kicks up. This is a stretched-out music, made from delicate, natural components. Cello as landscape. Cello let wild so that it goes to seed. Cello that has to survive on its own. This album is beautiful and dark and bewildering–so many of the songs (e.g. Not Here and Dark Sky, White Water) twist and turn and never settle all the way. It’s a thrilling listen.