The songs on Georgia Field’s self-titled album are domestic-themed and domestic-sized. A single singing voice, a ukulele, guitar, other instrumentation, a power drill in “Sinking Relation Ship”, clockwork toys in “Something Borrowed, Something Blue”. Nothing too radical with the toys, however, no Cocorosie here, though the sentiments in “Two For Tea” are like the ones in La Maison De Mon Rêve‘s “By Your Side”, and probably meant in the same longing-but-not-quite-serious way. Events take place indoors, by “the bathroom door,” or in “your bed”, they involve Tupperware, curtains, handbags, filo pastry, and various passions, the bedsheets are “sweat-soaked,” fights are “earthquakes,” and the emotions swell outwards through sinks and postage stamps. “I wish that you had perforated edges / so that I could tear you out of this / and paste you into happiness.” Fields is informal with tone and lyric, “And hey, don’t get your knickers in a knot,” she sings, which is disarming and charming, especially to me, a fellow Australian, sitting here in Arizona, hearing Melbourne in the sound of her voice.