Even knowing that flute was his first instrument and that he minored in jazz studies, signing to was a surprise. Then again, 's landing on the roster of the renowned label continued a series of unpredictable developments. The musician had remixed what became 's first hit, epitomized bedroom pop with a song interpolated by , and had written songs with and . Here he is leading and self-producing a album on which he finds himself exchanging leads on tenor sax with altoist and trumpeter . Why not? Titled after 's real last name, is divided into three sections introduced by familial talk -- recollections and lessons -- from relatives. The first part contains some of 's funkiest and most psychedelic material with poetic reflections on his upbringing that leave a lot to the imagination. "Ohio" plays out like a vague if comforting flashback, coasting on a stout bassline -- layered at times with 's bass clarinet -- that recalls Ohioan low-end masters . 's voice is almost as blissful as his flute. Other than the dazzling "Glass Face," consisting of just 's and 's celestial voices and rapid slap-style bass from , 's uncle, the LP's middle third is fueled by moments of deeper self-examination. Those songs are more in line with earlier output like . "Another Half" and "Repeat Myself," two of many songs featuring the blues-tinged lyrical guitar of , are tender expressions of uncertainty and acceptance relating to a romance that isn't idealized. The latter third is where and company truly stretch out. Leading it is "Blue Lips," where and drummer go off on a tear. 's flute on the rolling "Tears of Fate" draws a link to woodwind progenitor . After the whirling and charged meeting with on "Yesterday's Price," revisits the EP track "Stolen Moments" with "Moments Stolen," this time cooling off with a sax solo before putting his foot down with "No, I don't wanna hear a word you say to me." It feels more like a bonus track than a fitting conclusion -- a defiant declaration of independence after so much emphasis on lineage and collaboration. Still, it's not all sour; there's a sense of relief and closure in 's wordless vocalizing as the song and album fade out. ~ Andy Kellman