Campbell Kneale's music, whether in his main project Birchville Cat Motel or in his other dozen of bands or solo monikers, has never been easy to describe in simple words.
Naming musical genres, mentioning that Kneale is part of the exciting experimental music community of New-Zealand, that Birchville Cat Motel must have released more than 30 CDs/tapes/LPs since 1999, or that this discography involves collaborations with the likes of Lee Ranaldo, Bruce Russell and Yellow Swans would not really do justice to the music.
Birchville Cat Motel's emotions are akin to what the german philosopher Kant called "the sublime" : it's the kind of feeling you get when arriving at the top of this huge mountain you just climbed, and gaze, breathless, at the scenery. It's too beautiful, to big to tell, and it has, at the same time, some kind of vague menacing and otherworldly feeling that leaves speechless. You can only sit back, relax and enjoy an unpredictable ride.
This is about as close to a description of Birchville Cat Motel's music as we could get, and that's why it's better to let the images speak.