Tim Richmond has crafted an album of sparsely singular pop that skews towards the darker narratives and winding paths. With minimal aesthetic touches surrounding his gently croaked croon, the songwriter creates a close mic'ed world of cardigan hideaways and smoke curlicues that waft into walls full of cracked hardbacked volumes. There's a hermitage aura that permeates Richmond's work, an effect that's amplified tenfold with headphones; giving the feeling that the artist has taken up residence in a diorama of the listener’s head and is weaving slowly through the corridors and locked doors of one's own hope and hindrance. Though there are some immediate catches, like the single "It's Always" that lock into catchy refrain, the bulk of the album takes some time to delve into, opening wider on each listen to become a knotty bit of Kiwi-bent pop that latches on to the imagination and pulls ya down with it.
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