"Anyway , a local songwriter named James Cundiff started calling me and asking me to check out this CD he'd dropped off. It was called "Summer Chaos" he said. I put it off as long as I could. One day Cundiff showed up and requested to see me; he had another disc titled "Autumn Ghosts" "There's a lot more where these came from," he promised---typically a good sign that the music inside is going to exist outside the laws of gravity.... And it does."
" Both of Cundiff's albums clock in at around 80 minutes. And they're packed to the gills with oddball electric guitar freakouts over primitive drum tracks, which morph into strange old Americana gospel tinged numbers about death--- I'd swear one of them explains to a 12 year old how to plan a funeral for Grandpappy, but I might have been hallucinating at that point---that soon devolve into tinny songs with wobbly vocals that come off sounding like an unholy cross between Devo , Richard Thompson and Black Oak Arkansas tripping together in a Citrus Heights garage."
"Cundiff is making uncompromisingly left-of-center records that will delight any serious fan of outsider music. I'm not even sure where you can buy them---The Beat?Tone Vendor? They're certainly worth hunting down."