It sometimes amazes me what actually gets released these days. There are times when I have wondered to myself, "What was this guys motivation to spend hours recording this flat, round, shiny piece of shit?"
This is one of those times. I mean, I can't be a complete schmuck (or can I?), John Fahey does possess some real talent. He can actually play the instrument, unlike so many others in popular music today. What he fails to do, however, is release an album with any appeal whatsoever. It is a long, dreary album of nothing but guitar. And quite frankly, it gets really boring really fast. The first song is the title track. What else is new? After about, oh say a minute of this song, you've more or less listened to the whole album. The good thing about doing it this way is that you save yourself 43 minutes and 13 seconds of sheer boredom. Actually, here's the deal. Don't even listen to the first minute of the first song. Stay as far away from the album as possible. If, by chance, a record store near you carries this album, never go there again, for he who runs the store will no doubt prove to be the Antichrist. Save yourself from the horror, deliver yourself from evil! For I have been cursed by this wretched job to listen to this Alzheimer-causing album. Don't subject yourself.

~ Herald Music Review: Lucas Marshall

John Fahey's third Rounder release may just be the one to expand him from the "folkie" pigeonhole he's been confined to for so many years. (Fahey founded Takoma Records in 1959 and has since recorded over thirty LPs.) This album blends Fahey's masterful acoustic finger work with (his new cohort/protege) Terry Robb's bottleneck guitar-the brilliance of their interplay is most exciting on their treatment of "Layla." Let go a little and you'll find this one to be subtley radiant, tropically blue and exceptionally calming. Our favorites are "Black Mommy," "Lights Out" and "Let Go."
~ CMJ New Music Report Issue: 40 - May 07, 1984

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