XLR8R

The house party‘s at the point where the irony and posturing mellow into something softer, murmuring, and inexplicably more sincere. Flirts brush hands to a saxophone‘s warm come-ons. A swirl of incense rises in a dark corner, its lazy upward spiral followed by intent eyes. Someone‘s broken out the hand drums amidst the smokers and lingerers and that girl-there‘s always at least one-dances, drink dangled above her head, with her hips swiveling slowly, her eyes closed. Jaymz Nylon‘s the host of it all with this generous mix of lilting afro-rhythms, gentle broken beats, and a warm tamarind kick.