It’s lo-fi alright. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but this album starts in such a quiet and overtly laid-back fashion that it’s barely there and like it can’t really be bothered to be. And lo-fi doesn’t have to mean poorly played, but there are moments in a number of songs where the various instruments really don’t hang together, and the ‘harmonies’ scrap it out with one another in an unseemly, messy brawl that teeters on the brink of dischord.
There’s nothing offensive about ‘Thirty-two bit,’ but here’s nothing that really demonstrates any kind of special quality. The songs are pleasantly winsome, but are forgettable even while still playing. Harris’ vocals are pretty mundane at best – again, inoffensive, but wholly unremarkable, and the same is true of the lyrics – although I’ll admit I didn’t pay all that much mind to them, because my attention kept drifting. I even think I started nodding off on a couple of occasions.
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It’s a pity, because there are some inspired titles, including ‘Scraped Skins and Nail Clippings’ and ‘I’d sell Any Limbs for a Fair Price.’ If it’s gentle background bedsit meanderings you’re after, get this. Otherwise, I really can’t recommend it.
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