An enlargement I can barely discern except in sensation, all accompaniment presents me with a sense of everydayness that is sometimes unbearable. It blends into a schizophrenic nightmare of futility in existence, with the limpness of the technological fix being the satisfaction of our current problems of existence as a race, a species. There is no evidence of music and the sense of creativity would be better placed in prose than be termed as anything close to even being melodic and musical. It's simply mixed, spoken word, somewhat twisted and distorted at best. It really takes the 'ultra-minimalist' beyond a point of recognition as a track even. The whole cacophany blended into one. Having said that if the issue at hand is the 'Human Condition' (after Huxley?) then fair comment is made and I can see where certain areas of the voice was emphasised suitably bearing in mind the subject(s) in hand. And, you are right a very acquired taste indeed.