Man, I think I’ve done died and gone straight to flower-puff hippy hell. The Griefbirds sappily sound like that atrocious acoustic-tinged shit David Bowie was biliously blowin’ out his effeminate lily-white ass in the 1960s before he stumbled into the big-time corporate cosmos. Or this could very well be the 30-year follow-up to the vomituously twee Wings Wild Life album. Either way, it’s blandly unoriginal la-dee-da hippy music with folky sugary-sweet inflections of vile ordinariness. Does The Beatles “Rocky Raccoon” ring a bell?! I’m gonna save this though and burn it as kindling come winter. I might as well get some use out of this horrendously lackluster disc since it torturously irritated my ears for several minutes on end.