Milksop Holly sounds kind of like "Milk and Honey." They both suggest something sticky and dairy, but Milksop is much less hot than the Beck song. You probably won't find anyone making music like this-- or even listening to it-- in tight pink jeans. And you won't feel much like dancing while ingesting Milksop, a 14th century word that literally means bread soaked in milk. Time to Come In is the second collaboration between singer/songwriter Mara Flynn and producer Kramer, and it's about as appealing as its namesake. If you're curious, though, you can approximate Flynn and Kramer's creative process tonight, with just a few simple ingredients.

For this project, you will need a hearty loaf of stale peasant bread, a gallon of expired milk, and a copy of the Juliana Hatfield Three's Become What You Are. First, pour the entire gallon of sour milk into a large tureen. Next, break up the loaf into chunks to drop into the milk-- be sure to hold the bread down for a few moments so that it becomes saturated and does not float to the top.

Leave the bread to sop up the milk while you go to your bedroom and put on the Juliana Hatfield record. Write poetry in your journal about loves lost and about how the ocean makes you feel. Integrate these themes with each other as often as possible. A pal of mine tried out the Milksop experiment. Here are the results:

Each time that I see
The only shark that matters
I'm soaked by a crashing ocean wave
Left covered in seaweed
To peel it off and ask myself
What is this sloppy pattern?
I sit and wonder, does he see me?
Not even the tides can free me
From these chains of seaweed

Keep listening to Juliana Hatfield until you feel that you are one with both Juliana and her sister. Then, grab the diary and return to the kitchen for the performance you've prepared yourself for. Eat the entire loaf of milk-drenched bread while performing your "sea of love" poetry in the vein of a Juliana Hatfield song. Keep in mind that while your mouth is gagged with gross, mushy dairy bread, it will be difficult to keep a tune since the dairy gunk tends to push your vocals towards the nasal affectations of Lisa Loeb. Obviously, you'll have to say fewer words.

These 10 songs all sound the same, and lack any new musical or lyrical ideas. They're derived from Hatfield's timing and song structure, but are slower and dreamier-- two words that bring to mind Kramer's production work with Galaxie 500. Kramer may have drawn some slow-core leaning vocals out of Mara Flynn, but don't get your hopes up-- the comparison ends there. Flynn's flat, uninspired chords bear no resemblance to the airy, playful guitar work of those catchy Galaxie 500 songs that can hang around and haunt your head for days.

The cellists and violinists that appear on Time to Come In are a new addition since Milksop Holly's debut, Milkweeds. Here, they smooth out the clunky guitar but are otherwise unremarkable. Also, there aren't any drums to move you through songs that can't do the job on their own. And I know this must be hard to believe, but the lyrics are almost entirely about relationships and the ocean. Flynn sings: "I am seasick/ I am seasick/ I am seasick," ad nauseam. Spectacular!

Flynn's bio tells us that she "never expected that anyone would admire the heartfelt songs she wrote in the privacy of her bedroom. But lo and behold, Kramer was sent a demo by a Mara admirer and he loved it!" How could anyone's bedroom musings be this painfully boring? "The dark of the night/ You and I in flight/ I'll never know/ Why did you let go," and "It was my invention/ Never my intention" aren't exactly inspiring lines. Yet, Kramer somehow heard this and thought that what was going on in Mara's bedroom was special enough to help her put together two albums. They come complete with heavily solarized, intern-quality Photoshop work for the cover art.

And just when I thought it couldn't get worse, I found myself completely unprepared for Milksop Holly's cover of "Moon River." When I was little, my dad sang "Moon River" to me every night as I went to sleep. Milksop Holly have tainted this memory with bad dairy, and after several listens to Time to Come In, my resentment of their take on "Moon River" makes it the only memorable track. I'm not sure where such stale, pining pop songs belong, but I might suggest "Dave Maynard's Talent Showcase."

-Kristin Sage Rockermann