"Any discussion of Pittsburgh artist Pat Coyle’s music has to start with his voice. Tender, almost uncomfortably vulnerable, and able to soar into an otherworldly falsetto at a moment’s notice, it recalls Jeff Buckley’s aching delicacy, Thom Yorke’s alien mystique, and even a bit of Chris Martin’s warm boyishness. Coyle uses his voice as yet another instrument, sewing his wordless coo into the fabric of his songs like it’s an especially warm keyboard tone..."