“I first heard ROBERT MARTIN’s Long Goodbye while surrounded by friends. Even over the din of voices rallying to quantify, qualify, contain, bag and tag what we were all hearing, I was sure I'd never heard anything quite like it. Long Goodbye opens with some broken acoustic noodling that sounds like a Derek Bailey slow motion replay, over which a double-tracked cry of voices transmits mournfully, meticulously, and with an unnerving sense of purpose.
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“I first heard ROBERT MARTIN’s Long Goodbye while surrounded by friends. Even over the din of voices rallying to quantify, qualify, contain, bag and tag what we were all hearing, I was sure I'd never heard anything quite like it. Long Goodbye opens with some broken acoustic noodling that sounds like a Derek Bailey slow motion replay, over which a double-tracked cry of voices transmits mournfully, meticulously, and with an unnerving sense of purpose. From there it gets stranger and more beautiful, as Martin sings with unique abandon—is there such a thing as sad joy?—often wordlessly, frequently incoherently. The tunefulness of Martin's achingly beautiful voice sits in sharp contrast to the crudely played guitar, and sets Martin apart from his lamentably more 'in the know' contemporaries. There are few touchstones for the magic contained herein—Bobb Trimble at his most wounded, Tony Caro and John's All On The First Day LP, the earliest blues recordings of Guitar Roberts—but Martin's intensely private music is all his own. And now, ours to share.”—James Jackson Toth San Francisco, July 2007
