UK, 2003, Canterbury scene / avant-prog
On this album, Wyatt uses his wife’s poetry as the lyrics. Like the songwriter himself, the wife seems to have a real hard-on for criticizing religion any chance she gets. Their mutual disgust must have brought them together; I’m sure it was the subject of much pillow talk. Lazy (in a good way), minimal jazz with its interesting yawning sound effects. Mix in some politics and paranoia, and you’ve got a great Robert Wyatt album. My favorite part is the meta consideration Wyatt has for his listeners, giving them 30 seconds of silence and inviting them to take a break if their ears are tired. I guess 74 minutes is a long album.