Free drum scatter books passage through cloudland; twinkletoe sprinkles of piano decorate atmo’s limits in the upper octaves; angelic eternal ephemera bends in the wind. That line is cut, shuttlecraft, though ephemera continues to bend in wind, the tradewind, where dub begins. Reggae-bastard chord echoes in MS-DOS Dali halls, calling forth a gained-up steel slap with some squeakers and a heart thump, that in turn calls forth a protruding soul bass that in turn calls forth DJ Shadow house fixin’s and more ephemera and steel and the climax to a most enjoyable climb through cloudland, as fine as that last one. How would you rate your flight?
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