A shalabast'r tyde, like unto pantent leather shoes, really doth shyne up. Reflected in the waves are twinkling stars; a smirking harvest moon; herds of passing clouds & hazey pink dots, like legends burned against eyelids after a long stare into an errant brightness. Ka-Spel's penchant for musical procreation is further fathered via this, another outst&ing experimental recording. Fading into a subatomic rumble, 'Shalabast'r' sneaks into a quiet Edwardian waltz that sneaks into a fragmented sampling autoclave. If nothing else, Edward's always been a little sneaky. Maybe that's why he wears sneakers.