Amid the opacity and obfuscation, the grown-up eccentricity, the adult artsiness, non-rhyming verses, and then, when you least expect it, rhyming ones, a chorus that's not a chorus, and back-up singers who don't belong, there is a sad and stuttering guitar riff - perspicuous and lovely - and a bass line like scotch settling warmly in your chest. There is also a single moment of lyrical clarity, which, while revealing nothing directly about the otherwise obscure words, tidily captures the narrator's ambiguous feelings about childlessness: "I have no kids/to bother me when I'm sleeping/to sing goodnight to."
[Buy]