Liked this one a lot...reviewed today at Blurt.
Mike Wexler's voice drifts out across a mesh of electric piano and guitar like the scent of some exotic flower at night, unhurried, subtly sweet and wreathed in darkness. Little fragments of vocal melody twine in unexpected, chord-shifting patterns, and blossom in soft, sighing crescendos. Wexler's voice is often the last thing you'll hear at the end of a phrase, drifting out over the melody and dissipating finally in the clear space beyond the verse. There is no hurry in Wexler's voice, nor in the billowing drones of organ, synthesizer and string that embellish his phrases. Only the guitar, picked in regular, folk-infused patterns, and the drums move these songs forward, and even so, there is a sense of stillness, of meditation, of quiet at the heart of Wexler's work.