![]() Here's the dope: the first four tracks hold up, the rest of the record is beat. The rain hissed outside and hippie chick smiled at me. I laughed, cheated some more, and reflected on my disappointment with the record. My friend turned to the speaker and mocked, "This is the time on sprockets when we dance," his hands gaily twitching from under his armpits, his cheeks sucked in, his gaze, as always, penetrating. I perked my ear up, and indeed, we were listening to exceptionally vapid eurotrash. He fixed his gaze- which is indeed penetrating- upon mine and said, "This is pure eurotrash, man." When you put a penetrating gaze and a deep comment like that together, y'know whatcher got? A review, my friend, a review.ĭespite my initial delight at the first couple of tracks, which could be likened to Blue Lines- era Massive Attack, I could feel only horror when I realized that his penetrating gaze concealed an stoic musical erudition not often seen. Penetrating Gaze Man was not so reserved. ![]() She smirked, threw cards, and smirked some more. Hippie chick was characteristically silent, not reacting positively nor negatively.
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