sparklehorse were always, for me, one of those private worlds which i could slip into and lose myself in. those albums which mark linkous crafted all had magnetic hearts and they pulled on the silver moonlight which shines in me. drew me inside their sometimes dense, sometimes starkly minimalist frameworks and held me in their narratives. if a scrapbook were to sing at you it might sing in mark linkous’s voice, it might paint the aural pictures which sparklehorse drape in the air. a delicate, broken-voiced romanticism prevails across the oeuvre – sparklehorse’s world is one of endless fascination where the light glints off the shards of glass and exposed guts of machines in a different way every time. and now mark linkous has traveled deep into their mythic structures never to return. he was adding the finishing touches to a new album when he decided to take his own life. he will be sadly missed. the music will endure as a uniquely personal vision.