Hex

Sutton was obsessed with the space things were recorded in, and the record moves between near silence and swells of brass, strings and vibraphone; the vibes were played by a friend's father, an old swing-band player who had not taken them out of his front room in years. Half of it, Sutton said, ran from a computer, and the only effect was a 1960s plate echo. His lyrics were cut down from pages, cut up and reassembled, and he later called the time bleak.

Melody Maker called it unquestionably divine and NME a thoroughly marvelous record. Since then Uncut has given it ten out of ten, Record Collector heard late-1960s Miles Davis in the gentle caress of Brian Eno, and Pitchfork called it a singularly dissociative masterpiece.