There are about a thousand ghosts in every Eliot Sumner song. There are thick, rolling fogs moving across their floors. These are distorted memories and haunted dimensions. The brilliant, young British songwriter -- who also happens to be Sting's daughter -- makes you believe that you're surrounded. It feels somewhat like insulation and a little like suffocation. It's stuffy in these cold rooms, and you have a hard time breathing comfortably. She writes from a place of a cold-blooded sneak -- someone who's been looking in your windows, or perhaps just offering what you'd see if you were peering in through her windows late, late at night after the day had tenderized her properly and she'd been visited by all of the spirits. It's as if her words come from the grave, in a way that's hard to describe. It's a way of implying that she's an old soul, but it goes beyond that. There's a dark bite to the motivations and needs of the characters in these brooding songs. They coming to take it all and there's no peaceful rest to be had for any of us up here living. These are the reminders -- all the reminders we should need