Just looking at the song titles (and the album art, truth be told), it would appear that what we have here is the very worst kind of Emo schlock - all Jesus Christ poses and Clearasil.
Thankfully, what we have is an album more reminiscent of the great Throwing Muses and Belly with, dare I say it, some guitar lines St. Richard Thompson wouldn’t pass over during instrumentals of understated atmosphere (Everything Has An End. . ., for example). It makes for a refreshing mix - King’s adequate-indie voice isn’t overstretched - and pulls quite a Janus trick in its attitude to the future and the past. Let’s hope she continues with the imaginative trip and doesn’t get sucked in by any more Miley Cyrus jobs.