Every once in a while I do read a review… and this one baffles me. What is he saying?

Liebert is a fine composer. He understands the intricacies of harmony and melody, but more importantly, he understands dynamics and groove. Cuts like “Caballada,” with its driving rhythmic patterns, short funky bridge, and dovetailing guitars, all barely contained by the bass line, make for an exciting mix. Likewise, “Cocteau,” with its mysterious guitar line as standing into — not apart from, or on top of — the rhythm track, weaves an ethereal, nearly delirious exotica around a relatively simple lyrical frame. The six-against-four beat in “Longing” is heady — shimmering and seductive as it stretches out over its seven minutes. The raw, bluesy flamenco within “Underworld,” with its repetitive melodic frame, is very effective and hypnotic, and the dreamy, nuage jazziness of “Cave in My Heart” and “Echoes of a Caress” are unabashedly romantic.

That all seems very nice to me. I mean, I would buy the album after reading this much. And then I think the reviewer got cold feet about liking this record and ends with this:

Fans are likely to swoon, while the rest of us are still scratching our heads.

You got lice, or what? Ah, well, I should not be reading this stuff in the first place.