I wasn't too sanguine about the possibilities of this disc, on which three separate individuals are credited for "noises". True to the billing, Our Ghost in Her Wood is nothing if not noisy. The album consists of nothing but ambient hums and random rumblings, sort of the outdoor-urban equivalent of a room tone. Indeed, when I listened to this while I walked down 57th Street, I thought the batteries in my Walkman had died, so indistinguishable was the music from the street noise surrounding me. Suffice it to say that the music is well-suited to accompany your next dour art installation, or perhaps your next anxiety dream.

The city soundscapes were easier on the ears than the more organic-sounding experiments. The Drone Forest is clearly not a place you want to lose yourself in; their music is deliberately unsettling, particularly on "Seventy Eight", which sounds like a slowed-down recording of a cannibal feast, replete with distended gobbling sounds and the dull clattering of devouring teeth. This makes it perfect for party-clearing and neighbor alienation, but likely useless for legitimate entertainment purposes.