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Knowing absolutely nothing about David Pritchard, nor his 1977 album Nocturnal Earthworm Stew, I will admit to being completely fucking mesmerized by his track "An Admission of Guilt". I spent the better part of last week staring out the window at all of the shit being blown around by the 80mph winds and playing air drums in my own private David Pritchard universe, where noises aren't noises, they're sonic accoutrements bruv! As a self-proclaimed beat freak, I find these ever changing rhythms so fucking choice, it's akin to a full length feature film in just under 13 minutes. If only my attempts at making music this all over the place sounded this well put together. David Pritchard, even though you dropped this shit 40 years ago, I AM HEATED OVER IT HERE IN COLD ASS 2017...

Hit play on this song and then imagine me emerging, almost birthing, naked and lumpy, and fully coated with a thick transparent mucous, out of a large blooming flower. As I stand, I shake my hips to and fro, whipping the clear, sticky goop from my thighs to the ground surrounding me. I slowly take my hand and cup it around my opposite arm, and I wipe downwards, and more of the schmegma flings off of my arm onto the floor around me. Then I repeat with the other arm, while slowly, seductively, and sensually flinging the goop onto the already flung goop on the floor around me. Just as you start to become even more aroused, I make eye contact with you and ask "do you want fries with THIS?" and thrust my pelvis in your general direction.  Then as you tuck yourself back into yourself, you...