Local! Haunted, epic chamber pop from one of the North Bay’s most prolific musicians. Fritch is something like the Bay Area equivalent of Prince: staunchly independent, shockingly talented (he plays everything on this album himself), and bursting with passion. Gothic without being “goth,” this record overflows with detail like a Renaissance painting, shored up by mournful vocals, decaying drones, and impressive trunk-rattling bass. A typical lyric: “We are deaf to the echoes of distrust and greed till it’s built up to a bedlam of noise.” Beautiful stuff, perfect for anyone who likes dramatic pop but thinks Bon Iver and Beach House aren’t dark enough. Favorites: 2, 3, 4, 6. No FCCs.

1. (1:58)—Instrumental. Droning, creepy, woozy.
2. *(3:18)—Slow, incantatory, ominous. Really nice keening strings. Reminds me of Peter Gabriel.
3. *(3:52)—Slow, with big gospel choruses and deep bass. Droning outro.
4. *(5:01)—Very slow, loping, with plucked strings, like a nightmare 60s torch song.
5. (1:25)—Instrumental. Droning keyboards, Caretaker-esque.
6. *(4:08)—Medium-fast. Galloping beat, sparkling synths, falsetto. Strangely reminiscient of the Pirates of the Carribean theme.
7. (2:14)—Instrumental. Deep, dark drones.
8. (3:34)—Instrumental. Atonal intro, allegro strings. Builds and then drops off. Beautiful, minimal string interplay.
9. (5:04)—Medium-slow, loping lament. Opulent and depressed orchestral pop.
10. (2:57)—Instrumental. Placid, major-key drone. Fuzzed out choir singing.