Round, and round, and round he goes. And where he
stops, nobody knows. Another king-of-secrets artist
delivers a freaky slab of funk that kicks somewhere
between Squarepusher, Funki Porcini, and someone else
we can't quite place.
That's right, sportsfans, the steel drum, the jazz
percussion, the weird-as-heck instrumentation, the
cowbell, for pity's sake! Does none of this make any
sense? Probably not, but it's nice notsense.
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