Every now and again, your drunken pal finds your amp and fires up the guitar to volume 10. Closing his eyes with drunken pseudo-concentration, tongue half out of his mouth, he stabs haphazardly at the strings with windmill motions and screams random yet harrowing words about relatively innocuous things like owls and trees. When he’s done, he opens his eyes and smiles, and you all share a laugh. 7 Year Rabbit Cycle run a similar routine, but they never open their eyes and laugh. The improvisations are sparse in a bad way and the album is a bit too unintelligible to offer much to the listener.