Musically, the album consists of rhythmically and melodically twisted folk songs, spoken passages, experimental electronics, field recordings, and – to cite the points of reference that occur to me – the lo-fi rock minimalism of Earth’s Pentastar blended with the unabashed sentimentality of a Neurosis side-project. Visually, the gatefold digipak is superb, distant autumnal exterior opening to vibrant closeups on the inside. The booklet contains more photography, lyrics, recording notes, as well as an essay on the loneliness of creativity and the impossibility of perfect artistic communication – a bold move considering most underground musicians prefer to cultivate an air of aloofness, mystique, or macho unconcern. All in all, it’s a highly effective package. Some music is dreamlike; Cave Dweller can be described as memory-like. Memories are slippery and elusive. The places, people and events that inspired these songs are unknown to us, and Cave Dweller makes no attempt to communicate these private experiences directly. Instead, his words, images and music create a new intimacy in which the listener shares in the memory-likeness of his memories, their uncanny auras, rather than the memories themselves.
Rating: ★★★★★