Known first and foremost for her work with her husband Carl Hultgren in Windy Carl, Windy Weber's solo debut is both an extension of that duo's sound and a reinterpreting of past impulses, as the emotionally naked liner notes make clear. With a photo of her from the late '80s in full goth mode on the cover, Weber's goal with the bluntly titled I Hate People is to capture that sense of extreme anger and alienation, wanting to withdraw to a place where, as she puts it, there's "no one to bother us, no one to hurt us." It's heady stuff given that Windy Carl's work has been about serene, lush envelopment; on her own, there's that same sense of looming presence that's still somewhat warm in part, but is otherwise given over to unsettling electronic wails and keening cries thanks to guitar feedback, split into two lengthy tracks, Sirens and Destroyed. A good example comes early into Sirens, where about six minutes in the already unnerving guitar work, a scraping, floating scream over a low, wheezing drone loop, sounds ever more like actual voices moaning in the distance -- living up to the song title in a nightmarish sense. An almost operatic wail at 12 minutes further accentuates this sense of unease, cutting and ever more steadily nerve-wracking. Destroyed in contrast relies on Weber's voice -- swathed in deep echo, half-heard singing whispers, and low gasps for breath -- as the key. With a near-constant swelling drone setting the musical feeling, hearing Weber invoking the title over and again before further distorted feedback swells groan and strain through a dank fog of crumbling murk makes for a new kind of nightmare fuel. ~ Ned Raggett, Rovi