On previous albums, Matthew Houck, aka, Phosphorescent, has recruited guest musicians to fill the gaps, but on 'Pride', Houck has only enlisted the services of a makeshift choir, otherwise recording every instrument himself. His achingly cerebral delivery recalls Arthur Russell, but honestly, 'Pride' sounds like nothing else we've ever heard. These are poems uttered in an empty field, punctuated by shouts and hollers, as if from a singer either abandoned or possessed. The lyrics are Houck's strongest ever, wrapped in washed out choral etudes that could be channeled from a rural French chapel or a solemn African tribe in prayer. The album sounds like it was made by a man set free. In fact, 'Pride' sounds broken free of time and place altogether. Yet still it is warm, familiar, and welcoming-a record to call home.