Edward, The Mad Shirt Grinder

Oh yes yes.
Cipollina - even if it adds its own flair - must bow to the piano outburst of a Hopkins here soaring towards dizzying heights, where the air becomes rarefied, so lysergic that an appropriate antidote is necessary. That is, at least a cannon as the commander commands!

Great record, this one.
Not the best, mind you.
They're MASTERS of the absorbent.

Písenlòv!