Andrea Silva
Down & Under
Andrea Silva again?
Jesus balls on a handcrafted bacarat table pinned to pinterest, tweeted on twitter, and for sale on etsy, this shit is fucking cool pillow chill.
When you come across a voice that's as milky and calming as a cup of warm milk before you start taking shot after shot of rumpleminz, you hold on to that fucking voice, and I'd like to publicly declare that I've decided to keep Andrea Silva. She's mine.
"Down & Under" now proves that it's possible to be both accidentally disarming and violently relaxed with a tempo that never peaks past just barely awake, but a meter that's ripe for drowning in.
REMEMBER THIS WOMAN. But then again how the fuck can you forget spinning yourself in circles fresh out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your love handles until the towel drape-thwaps itself onto the floor at your feet in the shape of a tortellini made solely of cotton fibers, shower water, and shedded human skin?
ANYONE ELSE DOWN FOR A TUBBIE?