It’s tempting to draw on some familiar names to help convey this record, but I’ll resist. That might validate the fact that Parallelograms went practically unheard until its 2003 reissue. It is a unique album, from a unique composer. The wistfulness is in tune with a woodland Aesop fable, but Perhacs’ folk isn’t a sun-glazed frolic through daffodil meadows. It is, at times, genuinely haunting. In that way, it subverts its own serenity. The stung guitars and washes of distorted vocals indicate a world that has traced our own and meddled subtly with it. In doom and delicacy, Parallelograms is staggeringly beautiful.
A favourite: ‘Delicious’