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Crazy. I’ve never cared about it in forty years, and just today I gifted a best of to the wiffe. And they are stunning songs. Then I come here and find it reviewed. May it be Stevens.
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Kyuss, MM, qotsa... in short, pretty light references. If even half of what you write were true, it would be pure gold. And we listen, but don’t make me regret it because you’ve raised my expectations to an unreasonable level.
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not exactly the kind of movie that excites me. But your review does.
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As always in punk, attitude counts a thousand times more than mere musical content. So, tremendous respect... after all, you only have to wait for just under twenty minutes.
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Calm down, grant ... the tone seemed rather cheeky to me. I also like those reviews that just talk about the album, plain and simple, without frills and sentimentality. Even the Count doesn't seem to have barged in like Vinnie Jones on a long ball. Come on, enough nonsense. It's absurd that I’m the one calming things down. I think I'm getting old ... damn.
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What an awesome cover. I don't know them, I listen.
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From the genres mentioned, it makes me sick 99% of the time. Yet, I push myself to listen, curious about a review (as usual) that’s done right.
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Come on, Omar no.
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but also as a gift the fantastic Peppa Pig carrot peeler and a thermal underwear warmer to face the harsh winters. The Atomic Monster is pleasantly unusual for fumanchici standards. Everything is tantalizing like this review in a style that feels close to me. Addiction hurts, but quitting is worse.
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Analysis that seems to be as perfect as the cut of a scalpel. I look forward to seeing the movie.