Recorded in New York and San Fran but transmitted from on high. My over-educated mind associates the early universe with the unfathomable; the 1 Big 1 of our birth that scattered out for thousands, millions of miles in less than a second, less than that even, incomprehensible clouds of gas that cooled into rock and then hellishly collided at speeds that would’ve disintegrated human eyes had we tried to watch it happen. Some way down the line came the big fireball, Old Hannah was born and burned herself into being the baddest motherfucker in the solar system. I think this record imagines seeing that process from afar, watching it from some extraterrestrial terrain where alien folkies and dropouts gather for warm potlucks in the dead of winter, strum little alien songs and drink hot psychedelic alien teas. Jesse Peterson and Carlos Niño’s songs aren’t really about any of that, but the steady, pulsing and swelling sound of the nylon strings and various electronics/tape loops/organs that complement their stoned-humming voices would be an excellent soundtrack for watching fire meld into fire. “Let me set on fire, I love you” says one lyric; so maybe. As with most astronomical events, this record’s best enjoyed in its entirety, but all the songs are great and appropriate for anytime your mind is feeling focused.