Anyhoo. One night not long ago in the Bardo Compound in Philly, Michael says in a kinda ohanded way, "Hey man, you wanna hear this? ..." And there I was, being bathed in the songs you've got in your grubby little mitts right now. I was, once again, unprepared. This cauldron is a bit of a different brew. It made total sense to me (as it will to you) when he later told me the name of the LP is just "Bardo Pond." Why? It's a distillation. Two decades of playing together have sandblasted away everything unessential and left us with what we have here. It was like no one else before them had ever gotten near the plagal cadence, not Lou Reed or the Stooges or 2,000 yrs of church music. They invented it all over again, independent of any of that, after gawd knows how many years of nailing away and burning themselves up. I fucking love these songs. And while I hate writing almost as much as I hate third degree burns, I have to say it is a joy to be able to tell you about this record. I feel like Neil Fucking Armstrong. It took years for them to get here, but this record is the most goddamned beautiful thing they've ever done. Sorry for the superlatives. But really, the only thing left for them to do at this point is explode. John Gibbons: Guitars, Michael Gibbons: Guitars, Isobel Sollenberger: Voice, flute, Clint Takeda: Bass, next-level comedy, Aaron Igler: Electronics, Jason Kourkounis: Drums, with Jeremiah Misfeldt: Farsa, Dan Baltzer: Harp.