'The flies on my walls, they're silent
But the swarm in my head is a hell'
This album sounds like a moonlit autumn night, like burrowing your way into a mound of fallen leaves and tree trunks in the woods to escape the chilly breeze, like drowning in isolation and rotting into a forest bed in the dead of night, like falling away from those around you and into yourself. Marika Hackman's debut album 'We Slept At Last' places her songwriting in perhaps its perfect environment, its poetic and ... read more
sigmund freud, analyse this.
fascinating and genuinely boundary-pushing time capsule and insight into the biggest pop star in the world's own collapse of faith in american ideals at the height of celebrity culture, religious tensions and the beginning of the iraq war - which is also strikingly introspective and vulnerable. if it feels like she's having an identity crisis, well... so was america.