Really feeling the peculiar warmth of this mystic fairy tale ditty by Denver’s long-missed Pina Chulada in our veins today. A strangely fragile, sugar-glass voice chants motherly mantras of parallel dimension wisdom against an enchanted backdrop of big old slo-mo 808s, toy shop synths, and eerily innocent baby howls. An ageless, oddball, pixie-pop oracle? (via Transparent)
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