On one song, piano chords ring like ominous church bells. The fuzzed-out synth evokes a record playing backwards in fits and starts. Partway through, we’re cradled in warm guitar strums, until the melody begins to distort like the preface to a horror movie.
The album has some narration. On “The Hit Single,” Hirshberg tells a short story that feels straight out of a James Joyce passage. “There was a headlight and there was a horn,” he says. “When the train passed it was felt in the feet of the people nearby. Birds flew up and away, circled for a while then landed and resumed their business.” You’re left wanting more from this mysterious world.