Cryptic new-folk experimentation from Häpna. The accompanying information only describes the music as such: "Imagine a spirit awaken when it's too dark to see, but the bright lights that make you pass through life's octaves burst the gates of heaven with a tune that fills one's chest, and can be seen as a gospel for the glory each morning tells you about. If you listen carefully his friends are everywhere. They make the soil bend beneath your feet while the sharp light reaches your soul like spears (di spears). So beware and inhale, when you finally embrace A Taste of Ra." What we hear is pleasant-enough singer-songwriter blues backed by gentle guitar strum, harmonium hums, echoed piano and distant pipes. A Taste of Ra conjures up the bluesiness of Jeff Buckley, the trilling howl of Devendra Banhart, with found-sound droning instrumentals reminiscent of Pelt, Joshua Burkett or Six Organs of Admittance. Some might find the anonymity of the artist frustrating, but this release is a prayerful exercise in gentle, low-tech bedroom-folk with just enough of a touch of weird to make it interesting.