my last review must have been too creepy in its adoration for cdbaby to post, so i'll try again. it's still true that i love this album so much it hurts. this is b/c it makes me feel that terrible misplaced nostalgia, which is sort of wonderful in a sick sort of way, and plus, i have a real weak spot for songs with stories. it makes it easier for me to borrow other people's history, which is sometimes saddening and sometimes really lovely. it also reminds me somewhat of a christian folk artist named chris rice who i haven't listened to in a long long time, but when i was younger, he used to write songs about lazy sunday afternoons and flies bumping into screen doors. it was nice. also, james moore and chris rice both have quiet, kind voices that fill up places. i think it's also important that i buy it. i mean, i buy the story [of the person i imagine singing these songs]. the songs aren't leaking weird bags of unbelievable morbidity and cringe-inducing declarations. it really helps that whoever produced it did a very good job. it makes me feel hopeful. maybe that's it most of all. in general, hopeful, but also hopeful that someone true is going to drive up and holler for me to get in the car b/c we're going on a grand old adventure. the end!