The Autumns truly exist in their own frost-laden, wintry wonderland, one that is far beyond the confines of today’s current indie clime.

The fact that I received this CD in the mail half an hour ago and I’m already gushing over it should say something for its quality.

These songs are pure filigree, the musical equivalent of rococo art, completely concerned with ornamentation and flourish.

In the Russet Gold of This Vain Hour lacks its predecessor’s sense of bombast, instead opting for a much more delicate sound, one of finesse and filigree.