The first 400 copies are packaged in a deluxe full color book bound box, 16 page lyric booklet , full color book bound cd cases and the bonus album "Wildcat Fights", numbered and signed insert (signed insert only available to pre orders made before July 25, 2008). Eyeless are an earful. Messrs Bates et Becker have miraculously come trembling through the decades musically unscathed. And yay though it is within the office of many bands to have precedents in other bands, EIG really only sound like Scriabin saw. Or like Stonehenge weeps. Or like cumulus clouds unite to make bunny shapes. Caught in flux, as usual, EIG are absolutely in top form. Martyn is in brilliant voice and sounds like an angel, and the harmonic house in which Peter and Martyn domicile this angel is the Taj Mahal. Or is it as simple and small as a poor carpenter’s cup, which some would call a grail? Either way, this is dope! The familiar old chunking guitar and baleful organ-synth are there as well as the swelling minor chord miasma of texture and noise that no human could possibly evoke. Oh wait, that’s right, humans ARE doing it! Care to go on sublime, long-form instrumental excursions through the centre of the Green Man’s bindu? EIG got it! Been itching to rock out to well written, post punk pop tunes? EIG got it!! Have you and your family been craving that astrally projected experimental fondue pot of swirling beauty and skewed rhythm that makes you feel like you’ve crawled back to the womb and the best chill room ever was there? EIG got it!!! Have you ever wondered if anyone can combine virtuoso musicianship and studio effects in a truly magical way that doesn’t make it seem like everything has been CGI’d in? EIG GOT IT!!!! Ebb and flow; high and low; cooked and raw. See Martyn. See Peter. See Eyeless. GO!!! Pulchritudinous all the way…as in ravishing…as in splendorous…as in metal pipes rattled in a driveway while someone is playing the piano. So many soft little things. So much perfectly appointed emptiness. Such sweetly crafted, quiet headbangers. Prosetry in words and music. Songs and un-songs. Some cadences and atmospheres even smell a bit like cosmic third stream jazz. This must be the 4th stream. Float down it. For once 2 CD’s isn’t even enough. How can it be that 2 people have made their umpteenth truly sublime album? Rumour has it they bought the stratosphere.