"I’ve listened to it daytime and nightime, in Tokyo’s prefectural train lines, through crowded street, through empty ones. Sitting on the pavement in front of a kombini, drinking a canned high-ball. Partially on the plane, amidst opaque clouds. Partially at the shrine, within dry wood, and humid mountains. Here, in Japan, days end earlier, and the diurnal heat lasts a little longer, to dissolve less brutally into the night. Both aesthetically and musically speaking, it makes you wanna dance the JIVZ, carried by a relative inebriation, somewhat a little too early in the afternoon, as if it were already late, surrounded by nylon-covered bodies, bulging booties, but the shoulders cumbersome, in tune with HDV. Then, slowly, wobblingly, head on the detoured route to a nightly destination, warmed up, and cramped up. Preferably providing sake and some-kind of broiled food, D1V4G in the back of the mind. Remembering Brian Eno inside M45C4R4D3’s volutes. And QYURKY RUQ which I project onto Cutty Ranks’s lo-fi Riddim’s footage. Feeling like an incomplete wavelength, lost in-between two AM frequencies, within the almost-calmness of a D41N7Y 5QU4R3 interlude. Later, you’ll open an eye, look around, body buried under a plaid, the pendulum of the wooden clock seems out of sync, In Transit Across the Uni and you waste a second wondering about those massive ebony and oak living-room giants which must have been that hi-tech cupboard within another era’s interior. Immense mechanic, home’s nucleus. Watches and proportions. You close back that eye. I picture the creature from the cover, dancing an elastic-dance as the last of the JIVE ED comes around, its limbs suddenly zoomed-in, sprawled out as a chewing-gum to which would have been applied a disproportionate perspective effect, retracting just as instantly. Something that could collide with the beach scene from Funky Forest, or maybe the one about the animated short’s screening. As for only frustration, the desire to hear LYFSPAN go crazy longer, even stronger." - Charli Tapp