May 2, 2001, Newbury Comics, Newbury Street, Boston

It's a mild, sunny day, the air pregnant with a spring delayed in coming, but now in full swing. It's perfect for strolling the bustling city sidewalks, but my geekiness has drawn me inside my favorite record store, even though I have no cash. Having no cash is a common disposition for me, so this has become a bit of a pastime. Walk in, marvel at all the stuff I could blow my next measly paycheck on, and walk out, swearing that I'll be back, all Schwarzenegger style. On this particular day, I am idly browsing through the import new release section of the store when I notice Cassidy, the second album from the Scottish trip-hop collective Bows.

I thought it would never come out. Too Pure put off two separate release dates, and Bows ringleader Luke Sutherland is not only currently editing his second novel, but he's simultaneously writing his third. I reach for the disc with the lust that only a hopeless music nerd could have for a disc made of plastic. The song titles are alluring: "Blue Steeples," "Ali 4 Onassis," and "Man Fat." "Cuban Welterweight Rumbles Hidden Hitmen" sounds like a British tabloid headline.

The first Bows album, 1999's Blush, was a masterstroke of dark, breakbeat-driven orchestral majesty, one of those "changed the way I listened to music" albums. Plus, Sutherland has been doing time in Mogwai on the violin, and his former band, Long Fin Killie, are an old favorite. But, like I said before, I have no cash, and the $25 price tag is telling me to wait for a domestic release. "I'll be back," I whisper, before heading outside.

May 7, 2001, Newbury Comics, again

I've come back to check on my quarry. Has someone else snatched it? No, it's still there, taunting me. I'm beginning to notice that the artwork isn't nearly as impressive as the translucent bug-woman from the cover of Blush, but I still give in and buy the album in a reckless display of wanton credit card abuse. Screw the domestic release! It's been haunting me for almost a week, after all.

May 12, 2001, my dorm room, Boston

It's sitting there on my desk, but I haven't listened to it yet. That's really unusual for me. I've been known to get five CDs in a single night and listen to them all straight through. I've read the partially printed lyrics about a dozen times. Still, I'm nervous, anticipating something brilliant, but also fearing the let-down of something that's not quite up to par. The lyrics are great, but that's no surprise from an award-winning author. I grit my teeth and push play.

I'm greeted by the sound of swelling electronics and violins, artificially modulated up and down for a woozy effect. Over Howard Monk's huge John Bonham drums, Signe Høirup Wille-Jorgensen's voice enters, sleepy and wasted, like Liz Frazer on a bucket of quaaludes. The effect is something like Blush's "Speed Marina," only warmer and less distinct, not to mention drowning in a sea of drums. Satisfied that it's at the very least not going to be a complete disappointment, I settle in for the long haul.

Wille-Jorgensen and Sutherland somnambulate their way through "Cuban Welterweight," a ramshackle featuring only Sutherland's lazy guitar and Wille Jorgensen's half-whispered vocals. Some amazing imagery comes in through the lo-fi haze: "I flattened an African/ They said, 'Win and we'll whack you'/ So I break out the back way/ Head for the highway and home/ Honey-like sunlight/ I can't cry for laughing/ Trip over two hitmen asleep in a rosebed." Boxing is a recurrent theme on Cassidy, as the lyrics overflow with the violence, tragedy, and seething sexuality that Sutherland has perfected as his stock-in-trade.

On the musical front, the record trades in subtlety, steadfastly avoiding the grand gestures of Blush and the noisy outbursts of Long Fin Killie's three albums. Sutherland also sadly avoids a lot of instrument switching, leaving the sax squalls of old out in favor of guitar, machines, and the very occasional violin. He waits until the fourth track to showcase his own vocals, as well, deferring to Wille-Jorgensen and Ruth Emond more often than not. While both are amazing singers, it's still nice to hear Sutherland's own voice singing his words. There's a certain bite to every syllable he spews, and his bubbling aggression can make a good song fantastic.

"Ali 4 Onassis" is the album's best track, with its loping beats and shimmering treatments. Sutherland's voice wraps around the refrain and carries it safely to your inner ear. This is followed by the impressive "Uniroyal," a collage of swirling music boxes, skittering percussion and harmonizing vocals that recalls some of Long Fin Killie's best moments. Former Long Fin Killie bassist Colin Greig even shows up here and there to provide a little low end.

As the closer, "Sun Electric," fades slowly away, I consider what I've just heard, but am briefly interrupted by the hidden track, "Ten Ton All the Way Home." Overall, I'm mildly impressed. I put the disc on the shelf and head to bed.

June 5, 2001, My house, Connecticut, 7:00 am, before work

I'm eating a bowl of Rice Chex when it suddenly occurs to me that Pitchfork overlord Ryan is going to come calling for reviews on Wednesday night. That gives me a day. I walk into my music library (that's my bedroom) and there it is, calling to me. I've listened to it a few times since May, but I haven't become attached to it like I have Sutherland's other work. Besides, I need a CD or six to take to work-- my job requires music. It's one of those deals that a trained ape could just as easily handle, and is mind-numbingly boring as a result.

And you know what? Entering data into a computer is suddenly a whole lot more enjoyable. Despite its focus on subtlety and dry percussion sounds, Cassidy wraps around you like a warm blanket when you get it loud enough to surround you. It doesn't live up to its predecessor like I'd hoped, but it's still a very satisfying statement from a true master.

Cassidy may never see release in the states at this rate, but it's still worth picking up if you're a fan of Sutherland or trip-hop in general. Even when he's not totally consistent, the result can still be staggering. If it ever does surface over here, I advise you to give it a go. And if you don't like it, there's always Blush to fall back on.

-Joe Tangari