Hetzer

Never liked them; Stipe's voice sounds fateful and careless to me, their entire sonic mix comes off as flat and devoid of real energy.. Boring and overly rewarded beyond their merits..
You need to load the keyboard or the keypad with shotgun shells and unleash a barrage of review fire: read all the advice carefully and express all your potential.. From next time we will do it for real...

Like a plum floating in fragrance served in a man's hat?
Like a dehydrated papaya re-swollen from an immersion in a rhubarb infusion?

It seems that you experienced a blackout, or that you switched to the far side of the Moon while writing, because this review appears incomplete, traumatically broken in half, or into a third.. There isn't even a photo of these little piles of Eastern bones dressed as Pokémon; it all looks like a draft, put together and thrown away.. Why?
And yet I had good feelings; when you wrote "they have long hair (and surely fragrant)" I was already laughing!
How does the story end? Or how does it begin?

Anyway, honor to @[silvietto] and his heroic and remarkable review-ruckus, where "ruckus" is to be understood in the most sublime, poetic & poietic way, and thus Debaseric, of the term.

Your courage borders on madness, but it nonetheless brings you a certain kind of honor.
But watch out, because the supposed parallel with classical music and the reinterpretations of the '60s/'70s doesn’t connect very well, if at all.
Why? Because Emerson, Hayward, Lord, Pinder, McDonald... were, when not virtuosic, talented composers, skilled musicians, people who knew how to play music beyond just interpreting and perhaps “inventing.”.. Here, there is none of that. Here, there is posturing, self-promotion, self-parody. This stuff isn’t just awful; it's false, hollow in the worst sense of the term. And those who have no arguments to counter this will say it’s a boomer’s discourse, an hater’s perspective, an “old” viewpoint. Because the only thing one can do when unable to counter reality is to try to belittle the one who states that reality.
It's a discussion that can be articulated in many different ways, but the conclusion is always the same: this stuff has no quality, and it will disappear from the market when people are influenced to listen to something else.

"Clearly they sway with mastery of intent"
It was enough to write this; instead, no, one always wants to overdo it.

I humbly note a marvelous poetic transversality.
It occurs to me to say that the heroine/protagonist, far from being a fictitious character, actually exists, perhaps even as an abstract-instagrammatic entity. This alone would render non-fiction a form of fiction, something (almost) unheard of. Moreover, just as you buy a vinyl record and find the code for the liquid download of the album itself, here you find the miniaturized QR code to download the iconic figures of the heroine/protagonist's sexuality. You never know if the written word can fully capture the plastic imagery, so to avoid misunderstandings, it’s better to enrich the narrative with multimedia supports instead.
I foresee, in the galloping artistic arc of Our hero, a final crasis between the real and the unreal, where the heroine/protagonist, through FeetFinder, Subito.it, or a Rosicrucian code known only to the buyers, comes into contact with the enchanted reader and agrees on a correspondence of loving senses that, as a culmination of the rich paolotto’s barzotto drool, could also turn into a, shall we say, service, or rather, a paid performance. And thus, the poetic transversality culminates in a climax of moist excretion. What could be more noble than transforming art into reality and reality into art?

Goddammit, you look like Paolo Limiti..

Uh! A "historic" review written in the classic style of self-promotion! I am utterly confused...

A record like this, which I’ve listened to but don’t remember, in my opinion deserves a few more words... Especially since the offer is very interesting; try "In Transit" to believe it...