This is one of four records in our collection that belongs more to my wife, but I bought it for her, and sometimes will give it a spin myself.
This is because I love trip hop (or at least trip hop-leaning pop).
And while this is hardly the best trip hop album ever made, it does contain a few great cuts in the trip hop canon (see: “Wednesday’s Child”), and some killer production (see: “Dead Things,” with some of the greatest sonics I’ve ever heard).
But mostly, it reminds me of getting into this record when Michelle and I were first dating and sharing music back and forth, spending evenings at her parents’ house in her peak-ceilinged bedroom and sleeping in the windowless-basement room at my mom’s house as this and Röyksopp and Blind Pilot came through my laptop speakers.