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Fat Cat (may, 2002)
This isn't music - this is a portal. This portal is a hole located in the upper right corner of the cover. Use it in any way which your imagination tells you. Stick it on your freezer, give it to your grandma to sew up or whatever. But if you are an experienced sound-catcher, you know what to do. Just put your ear to it as to a seashell. Listen, somebody plays from there... somebody has stolen the map of a piano to start a campaign... somebody has gotten the best children's musicbox for playing on nighttime roofs. And this all-in-one is Mum's new CD. Again, it is recorded only for children. For proof of this, see how rigid adults have gotten stuck in this hole yelling, 'fake! treachery! a lack of new musical ideas!' - but who cares? Who cares when the voices of two Icelandic fairy-twins change one another, allowing us to enjoy wonderful melodies, slightly burned by the fire of the glass-blower. This is not the stereotypical music of complex electronica, appealing to people with strong logic and weak feelings. This is music best understood through child-like intuition, breaking the restrictive borders of old admirers. But even if sometimes Mum sounds like more a common band than «a pretty child» from electroland, don't hurry to draw conclusions about their simplicity. This subject isn't as plain and simple as a children's holiday, so we will have to consider it more closely. Either sound will become scorched entirely, to the last track, or our own childhood feelings will become suddenly materialized somewhere at the edge of the roof. All of this only reminds us that all music consists of our own emotions. Don't panic, and listen to the instructions on the cover. "He grabbed my thumb and led me away from the accident. There was no point in watching anymore, still i was reluctant to move. 'We had to go to find the others' he said. He never looked straight at me. We walked in the grass, around the shack and down to the stream. For some reason, i had never walked down there before. We went into concrete tunnel, dark but warm. A part of the noise was leaking from ceiling. Now there was that music again. He sat down and heard me do the same. 'Finally we are no one' he said."
[helen philip & igun shakor:06:07:2002]

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