After years and years of selectively storing data and cruising down the highway of life, Andrew Richards picks up an old battered guitar. Two of the strings were missing, but that’s how that guitar was meant to me, so she would stay that way. The 4-string guitar is the backbone of this album. Multiplied, duplicated, interlaced, and dissonant – as if there were different personalities trying to jump out of it. The vocals follow the same pattern - when strummed guitar strings become strings of words, or soft utterances that give substance to a subconscious idea. The beating of African percussion can be heard in the background, emanating from an urban soundscape, evoking a primitive nature, an imaginary journey, a calm floating sensation. The guitars hold this all together.