***BRUNNEN reveals that part of BEEQUEEN’s FREEK KINKELAAR F which is the strange wandering minstrel/alchemist (half-orc cleric with a +2 mace). If only more records were so cogently perplexing. A slightly cinematically arranged, quasi-psychedelic little dear of a hushed pop song opens the album. Freek's vocals sublimate in a pleasant whisper, not unlike (ahem) a quieter Yo La Tengo song. Freek, perhaps true to his name, does not hesitate to then very, very slowly weave together a spacious tone poem whose initial notes live counties apart, concocting an outré sort of high lonesome that might sonically drift across the same sort of plain as Wenders' Paris, Texas does visually. Kinkelaar's vocal delivery tugs at shirt tails ala Just Drifting-era Psychic TV balladry or introspective LPD. Subtly amplified guitars chime quietly against slo-mo keyboards, occasional samples, tablas and air. An understated rave-up of “Trust In Me” from The Jungle Book is a nice exclamation point. A musical sandwich, really, with the outer psychedelic pop buns keeping the avant-garde middle meat warm.