We're wondering which would be more appropriate -- to give this album the panning it deserves or to expend less effort and simply type several column inches of hahahahahahaha. Well, we should probably go with the former, at least until we run out of energy, because that's what we're paid to do. So, here goes: Josh Peterson, bass player for Nebraska chitlins the Faint and Beep Beep and the only person of note behind the meaningless self-indulgence that is Broken Spindles, is possibly the most boring, least talented white guy to get his hands on a drum machine and find a record label willing to put out whatever crap he produces with it -- good thing he has friends at Sadsack Creek. On the third album from BS -- which, like the others before it, sports ostensibly "cold" and, um, "wooden" wooden dolls on the cover (not to mention the pretentious/idiotic use of a slash in the title) -- Peterson proves a complete inability to do anything other than make bland, minimalistic electro-dirges and sing like a tone-deaf Trent Reznor. Occasionally he picks up a guitar. Occasionally a Kid A-era Radiohead comparison floats into the room before falling dead like a suffocated moth. But that's enough bitching. If you think you'd enjoy this 26-minute exercise in lifelessness (maybe you're a shameless, simpering Saddle Creek fan), let us know, and we'll gladly pay postage to get it out of the office.