The Corpse of Queen Elizabeth

Time stands still. A pinhole of light in the void. Nothing. And then, slowly, slowly, slowly emerging. Atavistic? No. Can anything ever really be atavistic when always it has remained not unreachable but barely just below the surface?

Cosmic synthesizers, topographic musicscapes, archaeosonics: quintessentially Queen Elizabeth. Not for all moods, but for every mood.

Over 75 minutes of life-enveloping sonic catering.