This exquisite collection is expertly and intricately crafted, a kind of musical jewel box. And Brownell (who is quickly becoming one of my favorite songwriters) has been kind enough to label this four-song EP as half being thematically "downside," with the other being "upside." Though truth be told, each song is uniquely bittersweet, and each manages to shed some light and grace on however your experience of life might be unfolding.

Say, fellow music lover! Are you a fan of exquisite wordplay? Do you enjoy work that ponders the weightier questions of life? Are you down with top-notch rhymes (e.g. "jejunity" with "opportunity")? Do you have a soft spot for almost heartbreakingly perfect pop constructions? Are you middle aged? (Never mind on that last one. Asking for a friend.)

If you answered yes to any of the above (and even if you didn't), you need this album. Full stop. Get it now and disappear into its exquisite bliss.

God DAMN is this album fun! (And I'm not just saying so to keep from having to pay $1000 if I complain about it.) Every song is expertly crafted and tight enough to bounce a quarter off of, with each honed to a keen edge, or whatever other metaphor you'd prefer to convey that this is rock-solid three-chord rock, just how our forefathers and sisters intended. Get it while it's hot, baby!

It's a special thrill when you realize that the extraordinary new artist you just discovered also has a deep catalogue. If you're like me, you may find yourself listening to this EP compulsively and dreaming about what else Wormstew has in store for you. Check out the surprising turn in the pop gem Kellyanne and see if you feel the same. I'd lay money you will.

The proud lineage of Minnesota post-punk comes blasting through on this four-song EP. In the era of DAWs and single-tracking on home studios, it's distressingly easy to forget what a gut-punch a live recording can deliver. This is real, this is rock, and it's catchy as hell.

When an album starts out this strong, you think, There's no way it can be this good throughout. And then, Please let it keep being this good. In the curious case of "Let the Machines," it manages to even exceed the nosebleed expectations it sets with its opening track, taking an indie rock journey essentially across the radio dial of GenX youth, and repeatedly jabbing that cohort's penchant for dread. The effect doesn't fade with repeated listens, either. You'll see.

Man. Every once in a while, you get a stark reminder of what the human voice and a single guitar can do. This EP fairly jumps through the speakers, at times bombastic, yet intimate and disarmingly human. Plus, hooky melodies and lyrics and wordplay that'll make any songwriter want to hit the notebook a little harder. Highly recommended.