Spoiler non-alert in a post-truth world: even though I actually listened to this entire album, I either won't say or don't know if it answers the million dollar question: who is the next Phil Collins?

This album of unprequelled outsider prog truly grabbed me by the nutmilksack and squirted wholesome musical joy straight into my titanium water bottle for safe sipping. Honestly, this kept jamming my music pleasure buttons, especially my post-rockist acoustic guitar fetish, evocations of Cheval de Frise. Normally I despise spoken word, but George's discography is littered with genius and/or non-banal wordplay and these tracks are perfect examples of his talents.

This hits so many of the magical blissout highs of basically everything by the Coniguliaro brothers. I could play it over and over without losing interest.