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| Album Rating: A- |
When it comes to inner states of mind, I like to agree with Max Richter’s selection of Kafka: that ‘everyone carries a room about inside them.’ If we run with this view for a while, we can see that the room inside Frederic Merk - the man behind this project - is quite a dreary place indeed. It’s isolated, first and foremost, perhaps with a single chair placed at its centre confronting a wall of naked plasterboard; with light trapped in the narrow beams that squeeze through gaps in the shutters. I’d like to think that next to the chair sat a battered old guitar and a rusty harmonica, too. A musical outlet for whatever clouds his mind.
