 Uman Oh no, I seem to have stumbled into an erotic thriller. The vaguely ethnic percussion, the ethereal female vocals whispering and cooing, the nondescript melodic content – surely I am having a torrid affair with my secretary, who will inevitably go psycho on me when I try to end the sexual obsession? Yes, of course, I'm in an erotic thriller called Sexual Obsession. That's the only way I can explain the fact that this music is playing. I know I don't own any Enigma albums, and I'm pretty sure Kate Bush hasn't gone "techno," so what other explanation could there be? Come out, come out, wherever you are, Andrew Stevens. Ms. Tweed, we're ready for your close up. I'm sure this music floats a lot of people's boats, but not mine. Studio precision, safe intensity, uncommitted world music references, enigmatic spoken-word samples, flutey flutes snaking every which way – there's nothing bad about it, really, but nothing I'd particularly want to hear again. Probably good music for sex, although a partner of any taste and intelligence would probably just start laughing when you put it on, saying something like "What, are you filming this for Cinemax?"
Review by Franco Chinese |