I didn't expect something that'd rock so much. I didn't quite expect a country-boy voice that reminds me a little of Jay Farrar, either, but mostly I didn't expect it to rock. The pop-up bit in the CD booklet's a nice touch. I'd been transfixed by the name of the album for months, wondering what dark corners he might be referring to. Now that I have it, it's been slowly unfolding for me during my travels across the suburbs, like when I got spooked up north last weekend. i don't know the meaning of self-destruction, he tells us. It's still an album to me, though - I'm waiting for that final listen, the tap that shatters it into parts, into bite-sized chunks that I can rearrange in different ways like Lego^TM. Right now, it's a bit more airy than that - an occasional voice in the wind, a sudden (and surprising) blast of air. A bell. A guitar rip. As soon as I notice it, it's gone again. These are the perils of listening to new music when you have a cold.