The problem with records associated with David Lynch these days is that you pretty much know what they're going to sound like before you even listen to them.
Cellophane Memories, the latest from Chrystabell is a case in point. A mysterious diaphonous enchantress. Emoting. Come on David mate ! We've seen this one before. I regret Lynch's condition. He's a unique and wonderful figure. This doesn't stop me scratching my brow slightly in reponse to some of his product.
Cellophane Memories is a riddle within a riddle. Mystery opens up and you've got enigma. You open up a parcel and there's always another bloody parcel inside. After a while you wonder whether there's actually anything of genuine depth and whether you might be in the hands of a confidence trickster. No, this is boring. I'm off !
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