there's (thankfully) lots of psychedelic music out there. it's an incredibly diverse genre, and this album is no exception to that rule.
this album sounds very lofi, and it was presumably produced at home based on the name. unlike with most psychedelic rock, the guitars are used very judiciously -- they're not just there for ambient background droning. the vocals are wavering and slightly haunting, which gives the album a distinctive feeling of instability/being on edge. the lyrics are more unstructured in comparison to the typical verse-refrain-etc style, and are intercut with instrumental music. each song sounds like a story or poem, and the album itself has a vague narrative structure -- there's an initial fall from grace or problem that develops, and while the ending sounds like a resolution from a tonal perspective, the lyrics remain ambiguous and may signify a sort of defeat.
Home Music Storybook is very strange, overall -- and definitely not in a bad way. the emotions in each album flux and shift and sneak inside the cracks between all the categories that language tries to create for feelings, so that you're left confused and can only give up. the album demands you to just experience it, because trying to understand it would be like trying to determine the color of an iridescent surface. it just wouldn't make sense.
[brief personal tangent that nobody wanted to hear] also interesting is that the album was created in saint louis, a city not particularly known for (modern) music. the twisting strangeness of Home Music Storybook accurately echoes the city's multiple dysfunctional realities, and also evokes the same sense of omnipresent staleness -- growing dry and brittle in the winter, and soggy with humidity in the summer -- that comes from layers of naivete and division.