The dusky thump and blithe, syncopated swing of Lee Curtiss Smoking Mirrors are deceptive-beneath the tracks smooth exterior lies an exercise in tension and release whose cumulative effect is anything but gentle. In Smoking Mirrors, the Detroit producer guides the listener through clouds of melting organ tones and busy, polyrhythmic click-clack as a sturdy bassline (with a particularly funky, French-house beat skip) cuts through the haze. Curtiss lets the rhythm do the work, building to multiple climaxes in the span of seven minutes. At the end of each anxious section, theres a womans breathless moan, a let-the-air-out-of-the-tires hiss, and its time to do it all over again.