This is “The Paranormal Humidor,” as opposed to the Abnormal Humidor known as Lewinsky’s cunt. Joking aside, the word “eclectic” comes to mind when listening to Somnambulist. For those readers with a sixth grade reading level like commander in chief, George W. Bush, a somnambulist is simply one who walks in his sleep. The name is appropriate for a band who dreamily slips from one musical passage to another and one from style to style. Sometimes the somnambulist stumbles into auditory vicissitudes reminiscent of Mr. Bungle at their circus-themed extremes and at other times we saunter off into a world populated by Police and Sting impersonators, only to be suddenly whisked into a Frank Zappa-tista world of jazzy keyboards and surreal time changes, and suddenly deposited smack dab in the midst of a tribute to The Who. With such eclectic (see, there’s that word) goings-on as this, it is fair to say that Somnambulist offers a rich, fully textured, and if not entirely unique experience, one most have not had. The compositions come from the over bloated, variety of small musical interludes and epic song parts of the Inna-Gadda-Davida/ELO seventies. I’m not saying Somnambulist sounds like a seventies band, I’m just saying they tore a page from that school of songwriting. Capiche?
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