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A fiddle and house music—not a combination one would expect to hear on the dance floor, but DJ Matar makes it work, as the first track, Peace in the Middle East, on his new release—Tropicalism. Also, as you might expect from a club DJ, the transitions between tracks prove fairly smooth, even it the songs prove unique individually.

Nicolas Matar has much experience in this arena, or "sand," if you happen to know that "arena" is the Spanish word for it, and that Matar is also the only non-Spaniard to have the privilege to playing to the European jet-set in the surreal setting of Ibiza, where some of the world's best dance music is produced these days.

Yet, as with this album, it still surprises me that no one has tried to redefine what House music is (i.e. produce something wholly original), for it still retains that same tell-tale back beat that practically self-defeats itself by propagating homogenous cacophony.

That said, to less discriminating ears like those of my three-year old if it still has a rhythm it possesses a pure and innocent merit—one that provoked the sway of his “tooshy” and exclamations such as “Papa, I like this music!,” and “Papa, Dance!” His naive spurts of joy immediately made me feel cynical and scarred by the experience of my towering observations.

Hence, after I consciously relieved myself of this debilitating maturity, I found the music quite befitting of the arts and crafts we were enjoying. The Japanese quasi Paris -lounge track was apropos to our activities at the time: creating a plaster of Paris mold for Junior's hand.

A half an hour later at the end of our journey into imagination I asked my son what he thought of the music: “Enzo, so what did you think of the music?” “It’s good,” he replied. I concluded likewise, knowing that any feeling to the contrary was merely a result of being sullied by age and obligation.

So in the end, it took someone who still thinks outside the box to woo me in the right direction. I was slain like the wild bull in the arena, by Sr. Matar. Perhaps, not a coincidence if I allow myself to continue with the frivolous wordplay, considering this impresario's last name means "to slay" in Spanish, hence the bull fighter's name "Matador."