When I was a teenager, my friend and I made parody tapes from a bevy of samples: video games, pop music CDs, toys, screams, chance interruptions. We made fun of those who deserved it (and some who didn’t), all in the name of a good laugh and a release. We were no Carter Mullin. The teenage dynamo runs a blog, a tape label, and records under a handful of pseudonyms. One imagines that if his talents were focused on one area, he would be a real-life Doogie Howser. On his latest as Reedbeds, Mullin takes a moment to stroll among the foliage of adolescence. Heirloom Rust Garden is a thoughtful, not-all comedic tape made from the best musical bits ingenuity and know-how can make. Mullin’s talent puts my old self to shame, but it doesn’t last long — not because Mullin slips, but because of how gentle and understanding his music is. We walk together and talk about our experiences, him doing all of the listening because he’s mature and wise beyond his years. As we clomp through a bed of leaves and dirt, we enter into a transcendental clearing where Mullin begins to float away, as if an angel saying goodbye to the earthly to revisit the heavenly. Heirloom Rust Garden is indeed from the clouds, a quick gift of talent and a look into how it could have been for someone like me; content to tear down when it would have been much wiser to build up.