Although relatively new here, I am already in love with Bog Witch’s world. It’s mad, and I mean mad in the same way that Kerouac meant it “…the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles…” mad as in adventurous, non-conforming, brave and brilliant.

While the music they make is one of fairly familiar structures and recognisable sound, as is always the way, it ain’t what you do, it’s the way that you do it, and no one does it this brilliantly off the wall as Bog Witch. You recognize the building blocks yet marvel at the finished sonic architecture.

“Mr Fly” is almost a pop song, almost, but one informed by 50 doo-wop girl groups and garage rock scuzziness, retro-grooves and quirky jazz sonics, alt-folk antics and references bands such as The Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band equally surreal sonic home. And surprisingly (or perhaps not) it echos none other than Emily Dickinson’s reflections on mortality, proof, if proof were needed, that the profound can be found in the whimsical, that deep philosophical metaphors can be found in the most mundane thoughts.