Marry you? I've spent more than forty minutes trying to figure you out and I'm still confused. First, you're working that Kate Bush strut on "Now Now," then you're doing your best PJ Harvey impression, complete with shredding guitar and confessional lyrics. Then you're asking me to marry you, claiming that you'll be so good to me. I dunno, Annie. Seems like a trick to me.
Then again, when you're not busy obfuscating your lyrics in swirling and grandiose production, you seem so serious. You're "crawling through landmines" with smoke in your eyes or racing through Brazilian guitar lines just to get to me. Sure, I'm worried about the whole "Jesus Saves, I Spend" thing, but I think we might be able to make this work. All your stars are aligned, after all — and I'm not one to worry when strings, flutes and muted trumpets find their way into my indie-pop either.