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Versione 3
Rating: "You tell me that we could be chainsaws under the stars..."
"Which stars?”
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Do you have eight minutes for a little thing without pretensions? Time for four small pearls that last a moment? If so, here comes a poetess with a magical and fresh little voice and a personal trainer used to atmospheric/wave accompaniment.
The tracks, four gray velvet flies, sketch scenarios leaning towards the negative. Floating essentiality, imaginative melancholy combined with something playful. Then four steps into delirium, and delirium is important (one fly/two flies/three flies) so important that here we don't sing, here we recite.
The fourth fly is, however, a butterfly, which means a little song. A delightful sketch (just barely) wrapped in a cocoon of lucid madness like the Flying Lizards: A perfect, skeletal, and bouncy little thing, ideal/most ideal for a playlist to be listened to mid-air
One must conclude with a deserved applause for the bizarre name, as explained in track two: “you point out twisted clouds writhing like army worms, an algebraic suicide I suppose”...Meditate people, meditate...
(Dedicated to the time when the smallest wave fart was worth entire dinosaur discographies)
Tracklist
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