that's the glory of it; albums like this one cling tenuously to their small strange existence and so become like apophyllite points buried in a rock wall; gleaming; Shap is so wonderful, because there is so little to it; lots of hours and days and nights of work audibly spent themselves in the effort, you can hear them in there, yet such a laundry-list of sounds in the end; stacked up randomly like a messed-up card catalog; and such great song titles, too; it has broken free of the matrix, if you catch my drift; and I'm sure you do; everyone who's ever loved records has at least one record that makes them feel this way; it's like you've got a secret; which can't be unleashed because there is really nothing to it; just the secret itself; which is what all these semi-colons are about; to explain them outright would rob them of their ability to get their message across, for which I apologize; they are driving me at least as crazy as they are you; you don't believe me; that's all right; see you; next; week;