“Sheep” has no introduction, as the light, almost haphazard strumming disjointedly leads the way. The glowing high-end synth and “growing dandelions from your sweater” imagery envision the bank of a river, gleaming water against an overflow of limbs and leaves.
But it’s a scene only possible in a dream, the nostalgic recollection of something that has passed that never quite was. Rosy eyed retrospection of distilled memories that you’ll never get back, mourned by the exhales of the organ and the vocals of Dena Zilber. Cried not with passion, but almost in a quiet whimper of resignation; hummed alone in your room, attempting to keep the tears to yourself. Making depression all the easier, with an almost out-of-body detachment of the ethereal, ghostly double-tracked vocals in the second and final verse that seem just as distant as the day you thought you loved someone.
It’s a rough mix (soon to be mastered by Elephant 6 associate Nesey Gallons) and maybe that explains why you can never quite string together the lyrics. But it has an allure of its own, an overheard conversation you can’t quite make out but are just as soon to fill in with your own story as you selfishly appropriate the art to cry for your own tragedy.