"There is NOTHING straightforward about Ms. Zeek Sheck, who has birthed some of the strangest concept albums of the 1990s (even by Skin Graft standards), with the assistance/devotion of certain other Chicago-area eccentrics. If Liam "Plush" Hayes and Mr. Bobby Conn see fit to serve Zeek Sheck and turn her nightmare ramblings into reality, then we're all fucked. Zeek Sheck is a drummer, too. She's better than John Bonham or David Lombardo. Then again, they never ruled the Cloud People, either. It is impossible to discuss this record in an objective and linear fashion. Nonsensical chants ebb and flow, drums refuse to keep a steady backbeat, strange instruments are conjured up and then smashed to bits. My brother hated it -- that is a very good thing.
Listen, Jesus, this is important, think of Diamanda Galas on nitrous oxide backed up by a big band group where every member has lost at least one major limb. You're lucky she's one of us. One needs to sit down and re-evaluate one's life choices when confronted with an album that makes The Residents' Duck Stab look safer than a duet between Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston..." --Matthew Moyer