Without a doubt, these are the most challenging recordings from Jimmy Crouse to date. Recorded at home, alone, they are raw, unapologetic, unsettling, and sublime. However, these recordings are different from the other recent releases. Herein we hear an artist who appears to be moving in two opposite directions at once; dissolving and reforming before our ears. Still present is the unfaltering commitment to a tempo that crawls well below the slowest setting on most metronomes, bending and stretching and sometimes stopping all together. This has been the hallmark of Jimmy’s cyclical hymns for more than 30 years. In these recordings, his steady-as-a-clock down strumming is nowhere to be found. Jimmy's patient vocal delivery is instead joined by a less reliable accomplice. His sparsely played guitar seems to patiently reconsider each turn, occasionally succumbing to bouts of spontaneous outburst, yet never venturing too far from its vocal companion.

Far from being a new feature of Jimmy's being, this spontaneity is a part of him that has always been present under the surface. Long-time followers of Jimmy's music—the few lucky ones who were able to see him when he performed live a quarter century ago—may be aware that Jimmy has always had a challenging relationship with his own nervous system. Given to uncontrollable urges that disrupt a flow that most of us take for granted, the extended, deep song cycles that he writes have always been an attempt, in his words, “to get from one end of the song, to the other”. In that sense, these recordings are no different. He’s just removed one more layer that stood between him and anyone else listening. These are two distinctly different, yet true and ultimately inseparable parts of Jimmy’s being, collaborating together. The mildly curious or timid may want to begin with songs like Foregone or A Panacea. But make no mistake, there’s not a moment of affected bullshit here. This is as real as it gets.

-Rich Pell, Specific Recordings