Dream Catalogue is good at DIY marketing — which in ALL RIGHT: respect because we forever need more of this type of publicity in music if the microgenres we all know and love so well want to progress and grow — but I’ll always hate sales people. It’s just me. It’s human nature. It’s why I don’t walk to people in New York. It’s why I make two-second eye contact with just about everyone I pass along the road because if you’re asking, “How are you doing?” I’m. Not. Buying. But be-that-as-it-may [Writer’s Note: I VERY MUCH HATE PHRASES, SO GOOD FOR YOU IF YOU EVEN MADE IT THIS FAR IN A CHOCOL ATE GRINDER POST], Dream Catalogue is subtle. Like a billboard that reads your thoughts, dreams, fantasies, egos, ids, gentiles, arch-stricture, sleep-positions, etc. through the iris’ pupils.
SURREAL is not just another number in the ‘Catalogue, no. CVLTVRE drives such a one-two melody, coaxed within rhythmic construction that I stumble just to rough the notion: SURREAL is merely a dream. Tap in:
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