A small record with a thin voice and a big heart, The Fine Art of Self Destruction bridges the gap from glam-punk to alt-country power pop with the best weapon of all – an album full of top notch songs. This album oozes New York, as Malin brings that high and lonesome sound to the five boroughs, tracing a lost love who “liked Tom Waits and the poet’s hat / Sixties Kinks and Kerouac” in the anthemic “Wendy” and tracing lost youth in the unsentimental lament “Almost Grown”.