Sometimes you'll get an e-mail that contains the kind of praise that you can only assume will be utterly hyperbolic when you listen to the attached track. You assume that the passion in the text is paid for rather than genuine. When someone compares a new artist to the best of Bjork and the glorious Stina Nordenstam while admitting that the track was recorded in the artist's bedroom (despite containing what appears to be an entire orchestra) then, no matter how much you've agreed with everything that they've sent you in the past, you doubt. Seriously? She recorded this in her bedroom? There's no way that she's synthesised that orchestra. The sweep, the swell, the surge, the travelling across keys, that can only be real strings. Can't it? No, it can be the work of one young woman from Tel Aviv making the music that she believes in. This isn't released yet. This is here to get something new and quite spectacularly beautiful out to you. This is here because somebody believed in it enough to try and make others believe. This is here so that you can believe. We may have just found a major new talent.
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