Like love, this record conjures up doubt, guilt, and that swelling feeling which precedes either laughter or vomit. The aforementioned was written by my roommate Mike, who kindly offered to write a record review for me because I was feeling uninspired. I admit that the substance of what he wrote is a bit vague. But given what Frosted Ambassador offers, it's a damn good attempt at writing a review. There are vocals, occasionally, but when they appear they're blurry and not easily discernable.
Goofy sound collage pastiches abound throughout, whether as part of a melody or on their own.
Beats and melodies fade into each other. All of this deliberately obfuscation does serve a purpose, however. See, Frosted Ambassador have made a mysterious drug-damaged hallucination of a record, and any attempt at introducing a straight face into the mix would have diminished the otherworldly appeal. You know, the guys with the tattered dreads and 12 packs of Budweiser. He may strike you as a boneheaded Korn fan, but when you play him this, you'll realize he's also a boneheaded Timothy Leary fan.