I realized my fists were clenched

Robert Wyatt and his cozily alien voice make another welcome appearance on the 'blague. I recently busted out his Shleep record and was reminded of why it's good to keep albums around that you suspect might grow on you. While not the spirit triumph of Rock Bottom, it's a beautiful and weird cycle of sleepy-brained tunes apparently inspired by their creator's insomnia. Good enough that two specimens are warranted. The first was co-written with Eno, and its jaunty, gentlemanly funk gives has that signature all over it. The second is more late-nite in its texture, and I can see the camera slowly pulling back above the spiral staircase as the protagonist shrinks to a shaky point.

Robert Wyatt - Heaps Of Sheeps

Robert Wyatt - Out Of Season