granted i'm not a woman, but for a moment i imagined myself as one when shlomi claimed to have inserted personal favorites (my words not his) into his mix, tunes that were not currently top of the ephemeral electronic dancefloor scene & were important to the cultivation of his artistic nous.

expecting something other than the sounds of an orthodontist working on unruly bicuspids, imagine my feminine surprise when while sitting on Shlomi's settee i heard not a rare Jose Feliciano ballad but the layered clicking, whirring & buzz-whoosh-whoosh of a re-flanged 1960s typewriter cheaply looped over mundane syncopation.

hardly romantic, at least for my imaginatively estrogenized self. a mix that borders on interesting, b/4 one's attention is eventually lured away by the fan in the bathroom & the drip-drip of the faucet on porcelain, as both are provided w/the most surreal echo-effects peculiar to marble tile while an unsettling childish giggle intermittently enters into earshot.

plod plod plod - same old same old IMHO