Haunted singer-songwriter tunes that drift through fields and houses at night, with shades of everything from Cash's creaky defeatism to Radiohead's forlorn phantoms. At times altogether straightforward in structure, and then suddenly wildly unconventional: consider the groaning tempo changes of War In Peace or the endless, tribal, possibly brilliant post-rock pulse of Grey/Afro.
Alexander Spence fits easily alongside the likes Nick Drake and Roky Erickson, a troubled troubadour who stumbled through songs, leaving behind affecting echoes of himself seemingly on accident. We stumble across them in turn 3.5/5
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