Nevertheless, the quiet, sensual revelations came like they were dispatched in a post-coital haze, doling directions, requests, and a map of her fantasies in percussive coos that are 85% sigh. The album orbits from bed to head and back again, though shes often alone, giving light to the topography of her needs, nasty or otherwise. Even when she sings of being together, as on Two Weeks, its only in her brain, distilling a freaky tableau vivant she is trying to put into someone elses head; its certainly the slinkiest zipless fuck 2014 offered. But its not some baby-making you-and-me all night long love, its very much individuals working towards a connection that they know is doomed.