The press release for the project announced "the follow-up to last year's first volume, English Primitive II continues the themes introduced previously in a harder, more electric and psychedelic style... if EP I showcased the 'songs of innocence', this new set comprises 'songs of experience'.

There are moments of reflection among the broken mirrors, but they allow scant solace or reassurance... EP II rises above its origins and invades the wider world, in all its colour, grit and glory.

"[5] Songs on the album included "Invisible Man" ("the impression of a regular person with hidden grievances, biding his time and waiting to lash out"); "Beautiful Launderette" ("a sleazy celebration of Britain's position as the laundering capital of the world"), "The Parrot" ("a prolonged evisceration of governmental mouthpieces and their court stenographers") "Bear Factory" ("the real-life story of the murder of one of the singer's primary-school classmates in the 1970s, and true in every detail"), "Orgy of the Ancients" ("the intimate intricacies of ageing politicians and the press as they decide whether to go to war") and a setting of William Blake's Songs of Experience poem "London" as "London by Blakelight" ("in a groovier setting than we're used to... if London swings, it's from the Tyburn tree.

In Mojo, Kieron Tyler wrote "lyrically, the second of former Wolfhounds and Moonshake frontman David Callahan's vignettes of his personal concerns is acute and compelling.

The second part of English Primitive does not disappoint in any way, showing an increasingly mature and multifaceted author capable of setting to music tales of real life and a vision of a British society in which the mechanisms of cultural assimilation and political system are not exactly well-oiled.

An intricate and ghostly vision..."[9] In a review for Penny Black Music, Kimberley Bright noted that the record is "more a darker companion piece than a follow-up to its predecessor...

Politicians and complicit unelected government cogs are also skewered... "The Scapegoat", with its misleadingly cheerful post-punk guitar, comes close to being a Billy Bragg political satire.

What Callahan conceived with the help of a small circle of friends can be framed as folk rock with marked psychedelic accents, wrapped in shadows but pierced by flashes of light.

It has an ancestral breath but does not give up on modern sounds, rests on graceful melodies but does not censor biting and noisy textures, evokes ecstatic yet tormented suggestions and, on a textual level, tells real events without disdaining departures on a tangent.