I am in love with Michiru Yamane. The Symphony of the Nights soundtrack is pretty like a flower that I hold between my two ogrish hands. I'm scared that I'll destroy it with my fumbling awkwardness, yet I am too enraptured by its beauty to look away.

You've gotta trust a guy who applies the name "AkumajoBelmont" to do such a colossal soundtrack right. Now, the song he remixes (Dracula's Castle) is not a super favorite of mine, but it's more than good enough to get the job done. God willing I would've prefered a solid mix of the "mexican jazz fusion" that I adore so much I practically masturbate to it, but with stuff of this caliber I'm only too happy to take what I can get.

The resulting mix is only too pretty. It's absolutely fluff, but it's the kind of fluff that Jerry spreads on his peanut butter sandwiches.

Delicious.

The song is at times intense and at times totally mellow. The use of synthesized voice can be creepy, but it mostly fosters in me a resurgence of my prevalent hatred towards robots. Before I can act on my emotions, though, the piece picks up (after a few brief hits) at 0'29. By 0'58 we have sunk into a relatively calm moment that should be intimately familiar to those who spent their formative years jumping up and down and slaying giant demon dogs in curiously long hallways. 1'46 ushers in a "new era of the funk" that doesn't let you go until 2'05, where a few brief drum hits lead into more of that terrifying robot voice whose very intonation speaks of his passion for his food supply, the delectable fruit we call humanity.

At a somewhat long 4'27 the mix might be a bit repetitive for some, but it mixes it up more than the standard dance hits you'd hear at a club in this day and age. And it has robots!

But Could I Drive To This?: I'm hesitant to suggest that. With it's resonating beats and drum hits that kick you in the ass not once, not twice, but thrice, there's an unspoken command that all must obey. That command is this: MOVE! It would lead to a particularly unsafe condition for you and your fellow associates as you, the driver, flailed your arms and wiggled your hips with a passion inside a much too small car. Instead I would suggest you divert your energies out on the dance floor. There, the only danger is you punching out your date in a fit of robo-induced rage. When robots are involved in the mix, nobody can ever be really safe. It is my humble suggestion, though, that you decrease the chance of fatality as low as is reasonable while still getting your "groove" on.