THE LICK ON THE TIP OF AN ENVELOPE YET TO BE SENT

Circulus succeeded to photograph damned well the universe in which we breathe, restoring us to the dawn of the '70, when the prog music began to circulate in the veins of the more creative musicians and a weird iridescent atmosphere began to expand itself. One thousand colors and touches, in a teaching mixture of folk-rock, avant-garde, psychedelia, medieval heritages and the constant influence of groups like Jethro Tull, Jefferson Airplane, Emerson Lake & Palmer and the first Pink Floyd. Together with their poster glued to the walls of an old house lost in the periphery of London, too acid and mysterious mushrooms given to the light an album from the bizarre title "The Lick On The Tip Of An Envelopé Yet To Drinks Sent". The mirage of California accompanies the fantastic transcend of songs like "My Body Is Made Of Sunlight" and "The Aphid", that have the power to transport us to past times, simply maintaining the attentive look of today. The tormenting voice of Marianne Segal in "Swallow" seems to want remember us its Jade and those thirty-three turns in vinyl that permeated with their smell the air of the rooms where to listen to a disk seemed to be a tribute to the devil. Circulus seems to possess the keys of the time and love to flaunt them in all their golden enamel, while acid shoutings underline the melodic parts, observing moog and organ challenging themselves to the last blood in a duel that could be been filmed from Sergio Leone. The phosphorescent lights of "Orpheus" and the delicate gait of "Candlelight" are other two moments that put to hard test our emotional office, sprinkling our skin of insane '70s shudders and modulated nervous recalls in tune with harmonies capable to plagiarize us. Until the heart it is not stopped..