Mark my words, and mark them well. David Thomas Broughton is the best live performer working today. Spellbinding. He captures your attention, holds it, and makes every moment count. The first time I saw him I went from being genuinely scared (when he appeared to have a breakdown on stage, and then wandered off the side of the stage, I seriously thought he might be about to lash out at someone) to crying at the beauty of the sound and the pathos of the performance. I've seen him three more times in the eleven months since. He draws from the preoccupation with failure in some corners of performance art and applies it to lo-fi folk, with a voice that is three parts Nashville Skyline Dylan and one part Scott Walker.
Now bear this in mind. David Thomas Broughton is not a great recording artist. And this isn't one of his better recordings. If you buy it, borrow or it or lend it an ear without having first experienced his live show, it's odds-on that you will be underwhelmed. I have seen him live, and I'm underwhelmed. It's just a memento for me. The longer pieces are OKish as a one-dimensional document of the performance, but the others don't seem worth bothering with.
This is one of very few albums I've bought this year. I got it from Boomkat, as part of the same order that included Free London.
 MusicBrainz entry for this album
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