After a quick succession of uniquely soulful Electro-Prog albums, Baltimore's Cex loomed ominously on the periphery of Pop stardom. He wore prominent underground record labels the way other rising artists wore gaudy diamond jewelry; the music press salivated like hyenas behind a hunting tigress, eager to feed on the havoc this unpredictable wunderkind was sure to wreak upon the increasingly conservative American music scene. All of this, though, was dashed when Cex attempted to release the cyberotic loveletter that is Tiny Creature, a miniature synthetic opera that explicitly invokes an unbridled lust so inappropriate it might leave even Nabokov or de Sade speechless. In an era which so relishes both the integration of digital technology into our sexuality and the story of the once-celebrated hero's fall from grace, it is a testament to the intense graphic imagery Cexman wrings from his electronic orchestra that his name is mentioned only in whispers of late.