GOLDEN FINGERNAILS RUNNING THROUGH HAIR,STROBE FLASHES OF LIGHTNING PIERCING A DIM BALLROOM, THE LOW CEILING DRIPPING WITH HEAVY, ROMANTIC URGENCY. CRIMER IS DOWN THERE ON THE FLOOR, TWITCHING, SHAKING, AND REELING EVERYBODY INTO HIS NEW AGE OF SOUNDS FROM THE PAST. HYPNOTIZING THE CROWD WITH HIS UNFORGETTABLE VOICE, ENWRAPPED IN GRANDIOSE SYNTHESITHER SOUNDSCAPES AND DRIVEN BY ELECTRYFYING DRUM COMPUTERS. ALWAYS HUNGRY FOR EXSTASY, HIS HYMNS BOLDLY REACH FAR INTO THE EPIC NIGHTLY EXPANSE VEILED BY A HEAVY CURTAIN OF REBELLIOUS FOG. THIS IS POP MUSIC WITH ABSOLUTELY NO FEAR OF KITSCH. MADE FOR YESTERDAY, TODAY, AND A SMALL ETERNITY.