Let me try to describe to you what this album is like.
It's like being beaten up by a performance-art troupe, and you're not sure whether this is a performance or a simple assault, or whether there's a difference.
It's like watching a painter at work, seeing him start to paint you into his scene, and suddenly feeling the touch of an invisible brush on your arm.
It's like being waited on by a robot ballet.
It's like being wired directly to the brain of a demented genius, but only receiving every six thousandth thought.
It's like eating a delicate consomme of overcharged watch batteries.
It's like landing on Mars and finding that somebody has sketched an incredibly detailed blueprint of your local grocery store on the surface, at twenty times actual scale, and annotated it with numerous suggested improvements for greater shopping efficiency.
It's like a dream in which you find yourself playing Stratego against the Pope for the hand of his daughter, and the only things that seem unusual to you about this are that his half of the board seems to somehow have more squares than yours does, and every fourth move or so he frowns and has to lean down and pick up the box top to examine the rules again, which invariably causes his hat to fall off.
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