#112. While listening to this album you might find yourself wondering who or what is this for. Well let me paint a picture for you. You have begrudgingly agreed to go to a dinner party at one of your wife's coworker's house. You know the one. The one with the combover and the crooked moustache. The one that always touches your arm when he talks to you. With the crack skinny wife in the wispy dress that doesn't speak loud enough to understand what she's saying ever. Every wall in their house is the same shade of off-white and every room has like one or two pieces of furniture, and maybe some stabby brutalist "art." You keep looking over at your wife to see if you can leave yet, because every minute being here is a minute closer to your insanity. And... this is the music that's playing in the background the whole time. Oh, and the brisket they served was dry. 2/5: please don't make me listen anymore