Went to Roulette last night to hear Carl Stone, Aki Onda and Y***** T*****. (The latter was a shamisen player who, apparently, was violating some term of her visitation rights here by performing, hence she was billed as "surprise guest" and Stone asked that this be respected, so she'll be YT here. I'm sure some perspicacious readers can figure it out)

I first heard Stone at, iirc, a New Music America performance around 1989-90 at the Kitchen where he impressed mightily. This was in the halcyon days when digital sampling was in its infancy and most any decent example of same was pretty cool. (I'm sure were I to go back and listen to some things, I'd cringe. Previte's record for the Moscow Circus comes to mind) But Stone brought to bear a lovely melodic sense as well as a willingness to calmly sit and elicit very slow strings of beauty, often taking a tiny sliver of sound and stretching it out to amazing lengths, discovering all manner of granularity within. A couple of years later, he released "Mom's" on New Albion, which was a huge favorite of mine for many years. Subsequent music I enjoyed to some degree (including a duo with Otomo) though he, at least as far as the recordings were representative, largely moved on from the delicious stasis achieved on pieces like "Banteay Srey" and "Chao Nue". I saw him 5-6 years back at the old Roulette (Jon, I think you were there?) and didn't get much from it, though his encore sample-istic version of "Axis: Bold as Love" was pretty juicy.

I hadn't heard anything of his in a good while so I only had general expectations. The evening was in two parts, the first comprising solo sets by Onda and Stone. I'm not hugely familiar with Onda's work, though I've heard a decent amount over the last 7-8 years, enjoying his found cassette music the most. His set here was disappointing. He was using cassettes (a hand-held device, connected via wire to...a mixer? not sure but it seemed to react to physical movements of his arms) generally overlaying two or three sound sources. Toward the latter half, it was a scratchy Arabic song (sounded like Mohammed Abdel Waheb, but who knows?) and some low, deep tones. But something about it just didn't connect, seemed dry and arbitrary, lacked any sort of resonance. The last minute or two, when things dwindled down to some soft, simple but grainy tones, was quite good, otherwise...not so much.

Stone, on computer, began with tiny but precise smudges of sound, ably dispersed throughout the three room speakers. Somewhat in the manner of his "Gadberry's" from "Mom's", the isolated sonic patches gradually began to coalesce into something that almost resembled cohesion but remained enticingly unformed, still swirling restlessly. One had the impression there were at least a dozen elements and wondered when/if they'd "make sense", which I don't think they ever quite did and which was one of the attractions of the piece. There was, however, a substantial lull during the set's middle where the enjoyable confusion crossed the line (for this listener) into groping for material, which wasn't found until the concluding several minutes, once again reaching that earlier state of addled bliss. Overall, some problems, but ample success.

The second half was single trio performance which was very enjoyable throughout though, in an odd way, I think this was almost entirely due to the presence of YT on shamisen. For most of the duration, she played it lying flat on a table (the shamisen, not her!) using extended techniques involving various implements, string, wire, etc. The resultant sounds were almost all high-pitched, squeaky and relatively harsh, the sort of thing that you'd normally expect (fairly or not) to serve in more of a "color" capacity. Here, however, I heard them as the true spine of the piece, bolstering and giving focus to the contributions of Stone and Onda who, on occasion, generated tones that were a bit loopy for my taste. The improv had a natural flow to it, ebbing and advancing, the shamisen ensuring that matters never flagged. Really interesting to hear how such generally gossamer sounds managed to wield such power; I'm tempted to chalk it up to YT's inherent sense of placement and musicality--I've only known her work in group contexts before; be curious to hear her own music. Toward the end of the set, she picked up the shamisen and played it in standard position, often tightening and loosening a tuning peg resulting in some fine bent cascades which Stone duly sampled and messed with.

Very satisfying set, in an intriguing area somewhere between eai and a slightly older electronics school; I'm not sure at all that type of collaboration would work out consistently--the underlying premises don't jibe enough, perhaps--but the inclusion of YT was the leavening agent that made this evening more successful than it otherwise may have been.

Dropp Ensemble - Safety (either/OAR)

Dropp broods. The Adam Sonderberg/Salvatore Dellaria-centered ensemble, here augmented with thirteen other musicians (full personnel listed here on four cuts with group sizes of three, six, eight and eight, tends toward dense, dark continuos containing layer upon layer of rich sound and they do that in spades here. Assembled by the pair from, I'm guessing, any number of performances, they manage to construct absolutely cohesive, convincing works; the four tracks totaling only a bit over a 1/2 hour feel like movements in a mini-symphony. The inclusion of instruments like bass clarinet and organ, which often hold long tones, is very moving, recalling some Gavin Bryars pieces from back in his prime. Really benefits from being played loud, exposing all the booming undercurrents; one of the fine points here, as in much of their work, is the sonic balance between the throbbing and the pointillistic or gritty. An excellent release, get it.


Jim Denley/Kim Myhr - Systems Realignment (either/OAR)

Denley (alto sax, flutes, electronics) and Myhr (acoustic guitar, "simple mechanics") here fashion capable free improv with a nod toward Australian native traditions, the latter not done overtly but more by passing references to the hums associated with the didgeridoo and dry, clattering sounds that evoke the skittering of birds and other desert fauna. Both possess an attractive clarity of sound, allowing a strong sense of spaciousness into the music at the same time avoiding many free improv routines. Myrh, who I've not previously heard, is an engaging guitarist, even more so (I get the impression) when he plays "straighter" as on a solo piece here, "Engraved and Suspended". Overall, a fairly enjoyable pathway trod between an efi-y approach and a more expansive one.


Isobel Clouter/Rob Mullender - Myths of Origin - Sonic Ephemera from East Asia (and/OAR)

When Dale from and/OAR wrote that he'd like to send me a couple of things, I asked about this disc since I'd been intrigued by Richard's mention of it recently. I'm pretty sure I'd never actually heard "singing sands" and maybe had only vaguely known about their existence period. Dale kindly obliged. The disc is a set of field recordings, the first three from Japan, the last six from China. The non-sand dune recordings don't do so much for me--I'm not sure to what degree they've been restructured but, aside from the attractiveness of the sounds themselves (which is fine) I don't pick up that extra dimension I've found in Tsunoda or, more recently, French. The dune experiences, however, are pretty amazing, even as you understand you're getting probably a hundredth the effect you would were you out in the field. Essentially, cascading waves of sand on these large dunes can set into action enormous resonance effects within the dune itself, sounding like the Earth is deeply thrumming. Even as is, you might not want to play this with your speakers too close to the shelf edge. Fascinating phenomenon, even if on disc it reads perhaps more as a cool science experiment.

and/OAR

So naturally, a naked old man walks in.

I mean, I invite my friend Betsy to the event, who prior to a few weeks ago I hadn't seen for some 32 years and who expressed sincere interest in the music I listen to and write about (and who's a cellist herself), and I figure, "OK, The International Nothing should be a pretty safe option, not so off-putting, probably on the quiet side, even playing compositions." So we meet over at XI, go up to the loft. There's a pretty decent crowd on hand, many familiar faces, some I hadn't seen for a good while like Chris Mannigan (hey, Chris!). Kai had been feeling ill all day, so things were delayed a bit which was fine as excellent conversation could be had. Things are bubbling along when I notice out of the corner of my eye, back toward the entrance some 30 feet away, a gentlemen crouched over, seemingly divesting himself of some clothes. I figure I'm misinterpreting this and turn back to the talking. A few seconds later, I glance up once again, momentarily assuming I'm seeing someone in a costume of some sort that I just can't quite decipher--it's quite baggy and flesh-colored with hairy patches. Oh, it's a naked old guy.

Amazing what that does to the conversational noise level in a place. Utter silence, soon broken up by the odd snicker. I'm thinking, "Great, this is going to give Betsy a really good picture of the scene." The gentleman, who resembled an only slightly slimmer version of Sacha Baron Cohen's cohort in "Borat", wanders around, seating himself in several locations, causing others to seek purchase elsewhere, eventually, natch, depositing his carcass at the end of our row. I'd later discover that he'd graced the previous XI series with his presence, having first asked Phill if his comportment was OK with the house which, apparently, it was.

Not that all this should take away from the music, which it didn't really, but it's hard not to comment on.

Mssrs Fagaschinski and Thieke performed six composed pieces, pretty much the same program, I believe, that Robert reported on here. It was very much about control, of maintaining a lovely balance between the two reeds and within their own sounds, the split tones played with a fine combination of precision and fuzziness, allowing for accidents within a proscribed area. There was a nice breathing quality to the first couple of works, a natural kind of ebb and flow, the tones combining to form soft shimmers, then parting, back and forth, often with an implied, subtle melodic component. The second also contained a well-placed silence of a minute or so during which the loft's heating system played an excellent role, clinking away arhythmically. That melodiousness came to the fore on the very brief, but exceedingly charming third number, a bagatelle that reminded me of some of Howard Skempton's beautiful miniatures for piano.

The short second set opened with the Morse Code piece; interesting structure, one I'd like to here again, the dots and dashes bracketed by longer tones as though surfacing between periods of static transmission. The final work, "Sleep", was my personal favorite, making use of a descending three note figure, sending it through a series of relaxed, oneiric variations, really conveying a pleasantly drowsy sensation, delicately balanced between melody and abstraction, much as ones feels between sleep and wakefulness. Fine work, thanks gentlemen.

Three 3" minis and a standard, new from Cathnor:


Adam Sonderberg - say no

An archival release from 2000-01, originally issued on Longbox. Interesting for me, as I'm a big fan of Adam's work over the last several years. The first track is great, very quiet, I imagine using some field recordings overlaid with soft pops; holds up beautifully today, very impressive for the time. A trio of brief cuts, one with Salvatore Dellaria on record player, another with Boris Hauf on computer, are less interesting in and of themselves but make ok elements in the suite of five presented here, sharp and crinkly. The last and longest features Geraldine Vo on accordion and if it's not quite so successful as the first, its intriguing combination of drones, lumpiness and subtle harshness points the way toward future Sonderberg work.



Mark Wastell - After Hours

One wonders how much simpler you can get, yet I find these 15 minutes very satisfying. A tubular bell with some computer processing, apparently, sounding in waves, the bell strike having had its initial attack blurred so that it wells to the forefront every 30 seconds or so, then it lolls there, like liquid finding its place in a jostled vessel, before the next muted peal. Totally easy to imagine this, in lesser hands, descending to new-agey levels, but somehow it doesn't. Don't ask me why.


Burkhard Beins/Michael Thieke/Luca Venitucci - Roman Tics

Percussion/objects/zither, clarinet/zither and accordion/preparations, respectively. Despite the Scrabbleisciousness of the interior design, this was the one of the bunch I couldn't quite get behind. Nothing seemed to gel for me, though there were several points where things appeared on the verge of doing so as when Beins initiates one of his fine, scraping drones several minutes in. It's a disc I might have preferred at greater length with more time for development.


Phil Durrant/Lee Patterson/Paul Vogel - Buoy

One fine, solid release here, excellent from start to finish. Durrant (self-made software samplers and treatments), Patterson (field recordings, amplified objects and processes) and Vogel (clarinet and electronics) construct five marvelously varied lattices of sound, gritty and dusty here, liquid and roiling there--sometimes simultaneously--with great depth and detail and unfailingly fascinating texture and sequencing. Vogel integrates his clarinet beautifully throughout, especially in conjunction with a series of low, fluttery sounds deriving from (I think) wind/water tapes and electronics in the third track. But there's not a dull moment to be found, one evocative soundscape after another. Check it out.

Cathnor

Jez riley French - ....audible silence (engraved glass)

I take it for granted (though I imagine I could be wrong) that French does a fair amount of processing on his field recordings. Evaluating the results, therefore, involves balancing the degree of beauty, interest, richness, etc. of the source recordings against the use that's made of them, their positioning, enhancement, the weight they acquire. Sometimes, as in much of the Tsunoda I've heard, there's an airy expansiveness to the sounds, an irregular branching out. Perhaps due to the accompanying descriptions here, but I think/hope a quality that would have been apparent anyway, there's an enclosed effect at play with "....audible silence", French having used building interiors, empty rooms and heating systems within walls. But within these enclosures, there's a billowy aspect, a cloud within the cube that seems to cause the walls to thrum, the house to vibrate. It's all wonderfully immersive which, when all's said and done, might be the chief quality one asks for in such music; however much it's been manipulated, it reads as real.

The third of three pieces, more than 1/2 hour long, concentrates on vibrating surfaces, some super-quiet, some throbbing enough to vibrate the surfaces of your own speakers, even at low volume. They were recorded in a building that carried strong memories for French and he evokes an eerie kind of calm, as though one has lied down on the heavy wooden floors, allowing the structure's inherent sounds to flow up through one's body. Very beautiful, very moving, difficult to otherwise describe. Could almost be a Bela Tarr soundtrack.

The disc comes with several photographs, heavily blurred images of apparently everyday scenes, not so bad a visual analogy.

More info may be found here though I'm guessing one must e-mail Jez to actually procure a copy? Well worth doing so.


R Millis - 120 (Etude)

I'm unfamiliar with Climax Golden Twins, of which Millis is a member, and had never encountered his work otherwise, so I had no idea what to expect here. Initially, the first track sounded a bit collage-ish, a (apparent) phone conversation overlaid on scratchy vinyl, but it soon segued into spacier territory, expanding out into glistening bands of minimalist psychedelia. The second follows a similar tack, but bumpier, harsher while the third dwells entirely in the ambient haze. These three are not bad, though I didn't find them particularly gripping, despite the rather unexpected and smile-inducing emergence of The Desert Band from Escalator Over the Hill at one point. The final track, however, beginning with an old, staticky argument about evolution between what sounds like two cranky, Southern black men, shifts into a lovely, forlorn guitar duo (I assume an overdubbed Millis), recalling Loren Connors, with an effective, subtle aura of hum. Arguably worth it for this piece alone.

etude


Lee Noyes/Barry Chabala - Illuminati (Roeba)

I've only heard Barry in a handful of contexts (don't know Noyes at all) but I nonetheless surprised at how efi-y and even free-jazz-bluesy (at times) much of this music was. It varies a good bit, unspooling out into less definable areas (which, imho, work better, as in much of the second track) but seems to be drawn back into the sort of playing that I think of as related to 80s downtown NYC fringe, a mix of percussive clatter and multi-idiomatic guitar. There's a section in the third cut where Barry creates a really fine low, hum/throb but the percussion at the same time seems to "routine" in a free sense, like Jamie Muir had just teleported in. "Illuminati" has its moments, but I found it somewhat unsatisfying overall. In case you're unaware, though, Barry has an excellent free download available of his performance of Michael Pisaro's "Unter Eichen (Under Oaks)" available here "Illuminati", I believe, can be ordered through Barry's site

So there I was, five puzzles under my belt, no mistakes of which I was aware, having just sledgehammered the most difficult puzzle of the tournament and looking forward to the sixth and, likely, easiest one, a Maura Jacobson effort. I zipped through 98% of that one as well before slamming into an unexpected wall. In the upper center of the grid, there were two five-letter across entries atop a puzzle wide theme entry. The theme was kind of a Spoonerism thing, the one in question was clued as something like, "Puts away the king's seat", the answer being, "STOWS THRONE AWAY" (which I hadn't figured out yet). I had "STOWSTH AWAY" at the time. The H was the third letter in MEHTA coming down. I only had the M and E for the two five-letter acrosses, clued, "Highest peak in the Phillipines" and "Love to bits".

That's where I sat. The down clues weren't helping me. It was a case, to an extent, of having too much knowledge as, when presented with a 5-letter word beginning with M and it involving a mountain in the Philippines, the obvious answer is MAYON. Obviously! Try as I might, however, I could fit it in no more easily than I could convince myself that Zubin's last name was spelled MAHTA, allowing me to enter ADORE instead of EATUP.

So while my peripheral vision and hearing notified me of dozens of lesser solvers (! ;-)) turning in their sheets, I sat there in confusion. Eventually after an eternity lasting three or four minutes, I figured out all but one letter. I had M_APO. The blank crossed with _ARS, clued as "Men in a tub?" Frazzled enough by my snail-like pace, I thought, MOAPO/OARS, and wrote in an "O". Moapo sounds entirely (possibly) Tagalog. (I did have an extra bit of annoyance floating through my skull--that Linda, sitting two seats away, probably knew the answer off the top of her head. This proved to be utterly not the case...). "OARS" for sailors sounds good to someone momentarily without the capacity to think of TARS, which is a rather better answer. And, of course, Mt. Apo, pictured above.

So, two dumb mistakes in consecutive years, this one lowering me to 39th place (out of 685). Cost me between 20th and 25th depending how much time I should have taking whilst cruising through the puzzle. Ergghh...I found out that, last week sometime, one fellow had set up a Fantasy Crossword Draft, seeding the top 40 players, myself at 25th. Pretty good peg, aside from not allowing for idiotic mistakes on my part.

Despite this, a wonderful time, hanging with the usual great crew plus my dear friend Betsy who I'd only not seen in 32 years before a couple weeks ago. I believe a photo was take of yours truly in the company of the notorious Okrent brothers by a staff photographer, which I'll add here when it's been uploaded on the Xword site.

**************

Ah, just recalled my favorite line of the event. The on-stage finals are accompanied by live commentary from Merl Reagle and Neal Conan (of NPR). Yes, like it's a sports event. One of the answers in the final puzzle was SWANSONG. Quippeth Reagle, "It could've been clued, 'How the star of Sunset Blvd. was listed in the phonebook.'"

**************

As threatened:


The Okrent lads, Leigh Newman, yours truly.

Morton Feldman/Howard Skempton - Triadic Memories/Notti stellate di Vagli (Atopos)

What can one say? I was looking into some analysis of "Triadic Memories" and came across this, from Jean-Luc Fafchamps in 1990:

These few notes, set in the extreme registers of the piano, define at one and the same time the ambitus - or melodic compass of the piece, its hesitating rhythm, and the intervals in the bass which will generate by successive developments and simplifications all the harmonic and melodic states of the work. All these material modifications (the changes in tessitura, the ever increasing number of superpositions of intervals, the aggregation of chords, the focalization, the sketching of melodic forms, etc...) are effected almost imperceptibly by means of varied repetitions, so that, in principle, the exhaustion by iteration of one state of matter gives birth to the next.

As with other renditions of Feldman by Tilbury in which repetition is a foregrounded element, most notably of course this piece and "For Bunita Marcus" as represented in his massive "All Piano", I find myself most struck by two facets of his playing that verge on the superhuman. One, his incredibly subtle variation of tempo in "repeated" figures and second, the possibly even more subtle variation of touch in those same passages. Feldman lays the groundwork to ease this approach, perhaps, by his moment to moment writing style, each set of notes (or individual note) being heard only in relation to those immediately preceding them (while at the same time, to be sure, serving as a building block of a vast tapestry, á la his highly regarded Turkish rugs). So, I assume, one's immediate memory of the spaces between, say, four notes, from several seconds ago remains fresh, more easily adapted. Add to that the memory of keyboard pressure and you begin to enter poetry territory. And of course, it's one thing to just vary matters slightly, another to vary them in a way that's somehow heartbreaking, thrilling, ecstatic, serene, etc.

Listening here to "Triadic Memories", 104 minutes of unfurled, extraordinarily beautiful carpet, I'm just in almost perpetual shock at how deftly, how caringly, how precisely and with what passion Tilbury weaves his spell. One almost forgets Feldman! Which is ridiculous but also a signal of how he and Tilbury meld so completely. As a composition, I actually prefer "For Bunita Marcus" and agree with Rowe that Tilbury's performance of it on "All Piano" is one of the high water marks of the 20th century. But this one isn't so far off, imho. I might add that I love the audible pedal pressings as well; they impart a frisson of the solid to such ethereal music. For what it's worth, I didn't detect any overt slowing of pace from his prior recording, though it must be there; there's no drag whatsoever.

If one must carp, I could imagine the recording sounding somewhat fuller. Splitting the piece is unavoidable in the CD format; I'd love a DVD of the event. But these pale beside the performance itself, one of extreme grace and depth.

One tends to forget the Skempton work! It's rather nice, single notes played somberly, having something of a drifting down quality, the "notti" of its title nudging one down dark corridors. There's almost a chorale-like sense to it and I think I'd rather have had it placed first in the recording, the way I believe it was at the concert (Richard or Alastair, please chime in).

But the Feldman I'll be playing and replaying for quite some time.

Atopos

Available stateside, while supplies last, at erstdist

Vanessa Rossetto - Dogs in English Porcelain

It's not generally available yet and I've no idea when or where it will be, but keep an ear out for this one. A 41-minute piece, it has something of an episodic nature and is somewhat less viola-driven than other works I've heard from her (though the viola remains very present, to be sure), ably mixing field recordings and electronics with the strings. Has a really good balance between harsher sounds and smoother, low drones, between crystalline tinkles and rough-hewn thuds, etc. It's the kind of work where the elements are not so unfamiliar, but their juxtaposition and embeddedness within the whole are beautifully handled, causing one to hear them as though new. The breaks between sections often arrive, perversely enough, just as one is really settling into a particularly inviting sound-world; you're suddenly jerked into a whole 'nuther place, initially disorienting, only to find that one, gradually, attains a different kind of depth and richness and just as one is....

Masterfully constructed and a joy from end to end. Hopefully this will make its way, in one manner or another, out into the world at large, soon.


Cor Fuhler - Wenen (Conundrum)

Talk about a quick turnaround! This was recorded on 1/22/09 and arrived in Jersey City for Valentine's Day. Solo acoustic piano (with electronic preparations), it's another good one. Long, thin drones (courtesy an ebow?) over delicate, Cageian prepared keyboard sounds, more insistent punctuation now and then, wonderful (almost motoric) plucking and strumming of the strings, twining in metallic spirals, expanding and thinning out again, beautifully concluded. More steady-state than Vanessa's, but just as sonically rich and driving. Very good stuff.

Available wherever Cor happens to be standing.

*****************

Also listening to:

Ali Akbar Khan - Traditional Music of India (Prestige,1995 reissue of two 1965 recordings)
Ustad Imrat Khan - Rag Madhur Ranjani (Music of the World)
Vadya Lahari - South Indian Instrumental Ensemble (Music of the World)

Let us now pause for a rare food post.

I'd had durian once before in my life, maybe seven years ago shortly after we moved to Jersey City. There was (unfortunately since replaced with a Target) a huge international foods store with six or seven ethnicities represented, including Indian, Filipino, Chinese and Japanese. I remember vainly trying to convince Linda to buy the bull pizzle, a coiled thing that I'm sure stretched out a good two feet unfurled, to no avail. In any event, one day I bought a durian.

It was a bit disappointing. It also, though no olfactory paradise, wasn't the stinkfest I'd been expecting, smelling only mildly foul (Those readers more familiar with the old Dafeldecker label than the fruit can remedy that situation here) However, the taste was kind of bland. I could get the sense of how a good sample was likely to taste, but it was a faraway glimmer.

Recently, however, I learned that durian was being served, scooped out of its rind, in Chinatown at the corner of Grand and Bowery. Glen, a co-worker who lives near there, brought in a container today.

Oh, man.

Durian does well when kept in a freezer, never actually becoming frozen, but acquiring the texture of frozen custard (it has a custardy texture anyway). You can slice off clean hunks of it, carving around the sizable seeds. Its taste has something of papaya to it but also a kind of tang that's unique, possibly off-putting to some. But if you can get past that, and the smell of the fruit (which can range from not bad at all, like today's sample, to utterly offensive), it's positively ambrosial. Even better than Marmite.

Early nominee for Food of the Year.

Haptic - The Medium (Flingco Sound System)

I understand it's early yet, but "The Medium" is the most enjoyable new release I've heard thus far in 2009. Issued as an LP with Haptic (Steven Hess, Joseph Clayton Mills and Adam Sonderberg) joined on Side One by Tony Buck and Boris Hauf and on Side two by Olivia Block, recorded in 2005 and 2007 respectively.

Side One is semi-dronish in nature, though richly layered and accompanied by all sorts of roughage. There's a fairly steady wash of brushes on cymbals and snares, mixed in with a range of organ-like tones and lower synth-y throbs. Those higher tones (hard to source--a guitar maybe?) coalesce into a simple but eerie three note descending pattern that becomes the spine of the piece, iterated languidly throughout. Rich, ringing, growling and gorgeous.

As fine as that is, it's on Side Two that some greater degree of depth is reached. Less steady-state, more a series of sound episodes emerging from a fog in irregular patterns. But the main new element comes from Block. I think I'm safe in assuming the source, as the muffled, vaguely sub-aqueous thuds and jostlings are not dissimilar from the sounds encountered in her (excellent) "Heave To" from around the same time. Combined with the again rich but subdued electronics and mallet-struck gongs, it creates a very mysterious, enormously evocative sound world, dark and mist-laden, filled with large objects just on the edge of identification. Crackling fire (?) and other detritus float past. Does anyone recall John Calvin Batchelor's amazing novel, "The Birth of the People's Republic of Antarctica"? (1983, before he oddly morphed into a radio host). If they ever film it, here's the soundtrack.

Even better, the first 100 copies of this LP contain a DVD with video by occasional Haptic collaborator Lisa Slodki alongside the same material (remixed?). In black and white, very textured and grainy, she's taken found images centered around close-ups of faces, mostly young, some of which seem to be from the silents era, who are performing actions of a generally subtle nature: half-closing one's eyes, flexing the corner's of one's mouth, blowing at unseen objects. One especially beautiful sequence involves a woman caressing her image in a mirror. These images are looped and merged with others that include light on water and a ring of slowly rotating light beads. As with Side Two, the visuals are oblique enough, containing enough uncertainty, that they complement the music very, very well. Any readers at all interested in Haptic are strongly advised to try and get the DVD while it's available. There's a short trailer from it available here

flingco

A baker's dozen from Creative Sources. Briefer write-ups than usual even, but hell, thirteen! In alpha order...

Tony Dryer/Jacob Felix Heule/Jacob Lindsay - Idea of West

Strong, dark-hued free improv from this bass/percussion/clarinet (mostly low-pitched) trio. Actually, the pieces are to an extent based on structures, per the notes, and you do get a cohesive feel to that effect. Calmly and intently played; not exactly my cuppa but they do what they do very well; listeners more in the post-free vein will be well served.

Jacques Foschia/Mike Goyvaerts/Christoph Irmer/Georg Wissel - Canaries on the Pole # 2

Clarinets, percussion, violin, reeds in the order above. Scattershot free improv, more jittery than the prior disc, from this Belgium-based quartet. Most enjoyable on one long track where a mic is hung outside the window of the recording studio--nothing earthshaking but it makes for a richer experience. Even less my cuppa than the above, but competent on its own terms.

Nikolaus Ģerszewski - Ordinary Music vol. 3

For string trio and double bass (with the Rodrigues' and bassist Hernani Faustino as well as the composer on violin). Ģerszewski has developed notation purportedly playable by "musical laymen" as well as professionals. Perhaps so, but the net result seems rather indistinguishable from any number of string works from the 60s on, interweaving traditional and extended techniques.

Jean-Luc Guionnet/Ernesto Rodrigues/Guilherme Rodrigues/Seijiro Murayama - Noite

Alto, viola, cello, percussion. Now this I can get behind. Two pieces that make strong use of exterior urban sounds--the musicians are clearly listening to their surroundings, emerging from it, reacting to it. Guionnet, happily, reins things in more than is often his wont (well, there are a couple of eructations...) and the others are finely tuned in. Really good work, highly recommended.

Magda Mayas/Tony Buck - Gold

I'm guessing that with Buck, Mayas is compelled to be more forceful and loud than she is in other contexts I've seen or heard her, but I prefer it when she's quieter, even semi-melodic. That said, the two live pieces here are strong enough, varied and the inside piano/percussion mixture is almost always juicy, especially on the second, shorter track, which is quite fine.

Abdul Moimême - Nekhephthu

A nom de musique, I'm guessing, Moimême has at a couple of prepared guitars in what might be called a primitive Rowe-ian fashion in the sense of minimal means and, as he puts it, "the dry output of an old valve amplifier". He works steadily and generally finds things of value, tending toward the dulcet and low-pitched. The shortness of the tracks (11 in 46 minutes) might act against him--I'd like to have heard several pieces developed at greater length--but as is, it's an enjoyable recording.

Toshimaru Nakamura/Mark Trayle - Stationary

I'm of two minds on this one. On the one hand, it's kind of like a more temperate version of the loud track on "between": rugged, irregular and interesting. On the other, the loudness and ferocity of that piece was part and parcel of its power and here, there's a restraint (which, of course, I normally admire) that seems a bit misplaced. I wanted to hear them more unleashed. Not at all bad though, and I can imagine this growing on me over time.

Paura - The Construction of Fear

A quintet with those Rodrigues' again, Alípio C Neto on soprano and tenor, Dennis Gonzalez on trumpet and voice and Mark Sanders manning the drums. To the extent they engage in incendiary free improv, it works very well, as well as anything in the area you're likely to encounter, due in no small part to Gonzalez whose innate lyricism is a lovely thing to hear. When they tone things down, it's OK, if less bracing. But a strong disc overall, well-balanced and imaginative.

Powertrio - What We Think When we Walk and What We Walk While Thinking

Could they have chosen a worse name? Eduardo Raon (harp/electronics), Joana Sá (piano/toy piano) & Luis Martíns (classical guitar) produce a good bit of spicky improv, leavened with some calmer stretches. The improv works reasonably well but, as with many such groups (at least as evidenced here), I find I prefer the music the "straighter" it gets; it seems to me that's where their strength lies, as on the title cut, one of two composed pieces (by Raon) and a fine one.

Dario Sanfilippo - Premio Malattia

Wielding a computer running a "Feedback Network Based Non-Linear Digital Signal Processing System" (sounds nimby-ish to me), Sanfilippo molds highly granular, diamond-edged wisps that slice through one's ears on one cut, linger on the outer edges of hearing on another. Fine control spiced with enough awkward surprise to keep things fascinating. Very nice job.

Udo Schindler/Margarita Holzbauer/Harald Lillmeyer - Rot

Soprano/bass clarinet, Cello & Guitar/electronics respectively. Quiet, scratchy improv. The one disc of the bunch that didn't do much for me at all on any level. Very tiresome.




Birgit Uhler/Heiner Metzger - Blinzein


Trumpet and soundtable (not sure what that is, but it makes raucous noise). Solid, harsh, drive-your-spouse-from-the-room racket, often tough and compelling, sometimes a bit scattered. By and large enjoyable, another good recording to add to Uhler's portfolio.

Giampaolo Verga - Fadensonnen

Ghostly pieces with sacred overtones for electronics, violin and voice. More of a spiritual tinge than I'm comfortable with, but carefully done, very serene with rougher undertones. Think variations on the quieter moments in George Crumb works like "Voice of the Whale", until the final two noisier tracks. Not bad.

The pick of this large litter, for me is "Noite", an excellent recording. Others are fine depending how much one is in to that particular branch of improv.

Phew!

Attended the and/OAR label showcase at The Stone last evening. Nice variety of approaches with several really fine sets.

There are certain sounds, certain combinations of tone, timbre, pitch, that simply captivate me from the get go. Billy Gomberg's set on computer and electronics served up an excellent example of this. The tones in question were reminiscent to me of early Terry Riley, say from Poppy Nogood through Shri Camel, with a dash of Jon Hassell and even, toward the end, a soupçon of Roger Powell. (Who's Roger Powell, you say? Well, he hadn't crossed my mind in ages but back in '73 he released a synth album called, um, "Cosmic Furnace" that I thought way cool at the time. Maybe still would, who knows? But some of Gomberg's intonations here managed to wrest memories of that LP from the depths of my cerebellum). He generated fairly pure tones sliding from one to another via abrupt snaps--I'm sure there's a technical term for this, but it's what I associate with analog synths like Riley's, where shifts in tone are accompanied by sounds I think of as gate openings and closings; I love that sonic sequence and they were all over the place here. It was very vaguely repetitive, no overt rhythms or patterns but one sensed they weren't far from the surface. He also injected enough sand in the gears to keep things well away from the too-smooth. Really enjoyed it, could've sat and listened for a looong time.

Next up was Sawako, who turned in a very delicate, oddly satisfying set using piano, voice and electronics. The latter provided a thin scrim of static atop which she played very soft chords, allowing them to melt into the static; very attractive. She used a good deal of silence between chords, sometimes several minutes, during which she'd place her hands on an area of the keyboard, often lifting fingers as though about to play, then not play after all, generating "ghost chords" in the observer's head. Additionally, she'd sometimes accompany these chords with hushed vocalizations, again blending beautifully with both the sustained chords and the static. Good stuff.

Then, to close out the first set, came John Hudak. I'd only seen him once before, maybe 8-9 years back, and hadn't followed his career at all really, so I had little idea what to expect, figuring it would fall somewhere in the extreme noise range. Erm, no. Lights were turned off and Hudak, sporting a red lamp attached to his head coal-miner style, crept amongst his equipment, situating himself with his back toward my section of the audience. I'm thus not entirely positive which, if any of the ensuing sounds were created live and which might have been prerecorded (I suspect the former). In any case, against a background of soft hiss, one heard very loud human whistling, performing what seemed to be a folk song of sorts, Asian sounding, highly amplified and closely miked, giving the impression of emanating from a large, unoccupied space. The whistle song was repeated. Many times. Many, many times. After 15 or so minutes, Hudak switched to vocalized song, in a language I believe I successfully identified as Tibetan. Again, of a folk and/or religious type, possibly Buddhist-related, again iterated. One began to get the impression, duh, that he was recreating a kind of shamanistic ceremony. All well and good, I guess, not enormously effective in The Stone's environs, at least for myself, though I suppose one could get lost in it if one has a more spiritual bent than I. Oh, eventually he stopped.

The second set began with Kenneth Kirschner (piano, electronics) and Asher (electronics). On the electronics front, they were apparently playing each other's generated sounds; I take it one would created the (as yet unheard) sound formulations, relay them to the other's computer whence he would process them and set them free into the space. This part worked very well, a subtle rustle of static, subdued tones and very faint radio talk that was quite moving in an odd way. Over this, however, Kirschner played delicate figures on the piano--simple, relatively melodic and repeating--which never, to my ears, integrated into the electronics in an effective manner. Maybe they were overly dainty, without enough gravitas. I could imagine Tilbury, say, taking a similar tack but investing the notes with the necessary probity. Here, they just wafted away, never convincing me.

Finally, we had the duo of Olivia Block (piano, electronics) and Adam Sonderberg (electronics). This was the set I'd been most anticipating, having been a big fan of the work of each for a while now, and they didn't disappoint. Rich, meaty, gnarly, beautifully structured. One of those sets that, when it begins, is almost awkward, the balance seemingly always on the verge of toppling, but then small cohesions develop, a fabric begins to unfurl and by the end of the piece, you realize how "full" it had been all along. Block spent much of her time inside the piano with mallets, tuning forks, sheets of aluminum, etc., but would also, on occasion, return to the keyboard for an exquisitely placed single note or two. These became something of the spine of the set, even if several minutes often elapsed between them; a frail stalk, maybe, from which all else sprouted. Sonderberg generated fields of hyper-intense detail, unfailingly fascinating both as gorgeous "objects" themselves and for how they integrated with Block. He periodically summoned up what seemed to be location recordings of a drum corps, replete with cheers [Adam informs me the source for the drum corps was, indeed, Olivia...I suspected as much! ;-)]. It's the type of thing that could be distracting, but he kept it at a volume and fuzziness level that allowed it to sit perfectly within the existing flux, also echoing Block's earlier career interest in forms of Americana. As i said, a very full piece, one I'd love to hear again.

A fine evening, all in all. Great to finally meet Olivia, Adam, Ernst Karel, Dale Lloyd, Billy, Seth Tisue, Sandra Gibson and Luis Recoder (the latter pair, the videographers responsible for Olivia's fantastic DVD release last year) in the flesh. Thanks to all.

Jason Kahn/Takefumi Naoshima - in a room (winds measure)

As I mentioned on Richard's blog, I wasn't at all sure at first whether or not the pervasive, fuzzy kind of hum one hears was triggered or, as he pointed out, the result of upping the volume on the room ambiance. Subsequent listening convinced me of the latter. Well, it's nice that when you title a release, "in a room", the room in question has an approximately equal say in things as the two humans, which it does, along with some activity outside the venue. In any case, a delightful recording, Kahn and Naoshima, often retreating entirely, elsewhere erupting in swirls of rubbed and tapped percussion and mixing board, though the latter is tougher to pinpoint apart from some ultrahigh skirling. Very enjoyable, rich recording that fits right in with my room very comfortably.

winds measure


Takahiro Kawaguchi - n (hibari)

Kawaguchi's credited with "remodeled counters" here. Not sure what those are except that they apparently tick. I suspect there's no overdubbing but rather simply a whole lot of counters, set to tick in (necessarily, one would think) non-unison. At its best, you hear the kind of phasing effect, rather like early Reich, which is fun enough if not so gripping these days. To my ears, the pieces would work far better as an installation one could walk through (and that might well be the source of these recordings, dunno), where the spatial aspect would lend a wavelike feel. As is, it's pleasant enough, not uninteresting, but not so convincing.

available stateside through erstdist


Rachel Shearer - Fakerie (Family Vineyard)

A 22-minute DVD with music. The visuals consist of seven lights set in a pattern against a black background that, intentionally I take it, causes one to think: constellation. The lights are actually filmed, if I'm not mistaken; you can occasionally just about glimpse some background near the one on the upper right. The camera lens causes them to gleam snowflake-like, with six points emerging as well as faint vertical artifacts. They're motionless throughout, brightening and dimming more or less in unison (though with some subtle fluctuation. During the first half and more of the piece, their change in luminosity seems to be triggered by the music which, at this point, is made up of calmly strummed and sustained guitar, tonal in character but free of melody or explicit rhythm. There's a certain charming naivete about this, as though the lights are alien creatures mimicking the noises you're creating as best they can. The music shifts a bit after midway through, becoming more abstract, higher-pitched and grainier, sounding in the no-input mixing board area and the relationship between it and amplitude changes on the part of the lights becomes less clear, though more interesting. It's an odd work in many ways--not as spacey as one might expect, seemingly open and accessible but not really giving you much in the way of easy footholds, a good thing. Worth checking out.

Family Vineyard

I just heard that Max Neuhaus has died.

Shortly after I moved to NYC in '76, I somehow heard of Neuhaus' installation on one of the traffic islands in Time Square. Rather, below one of the gratings where he'd placed a sound generator that emitted a non-stop, low level throbbing drone. I spent many an hour there, listening to the drone mix with the hubbub, watching the bemused looks on tourists trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Any time I was in the area in the ensuing years while it was active (it was disconnected between 1992-2002), I'd make sure to stop by.

I should have followed up on this way back when but didn't. I read of other works of his from around the same period like music broadcast in a swimming pool where, in order to hear it, one had to dive in. (I believe this is a photo from the event:
There was another, I think around Buffalo NY, where his work was aired on a faint, unused radio channel. You were to get in your car and tune in to the station. As you drove around the perimeter of the city, the sound would change, fade in and out, etc. Wonderful idea.

Most recently, and quite by surprise, I encountered his music at the Dia Center in Beacon where, if I'm not mistaken, a piece is installed on the roof, out of view. I was sitting outside on a bench with Keith a couple years back, not entirely sure if I was hearing echoes of trains or auto traffic or if the sounds were otherwise created. A little investigating led to realizing there was a Neuhaus piece in the vicinity, though hidden. Very lovely.

Thanks for all the marvelous ideas and music, Mr. Neuhaus.

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Over at IHM, Robert posted the cover image from Newhaus' record on Sony:


I recognized the image instantly though I don't own it and never did. Thinking about it, I realized I must have borrowed it from Adriance Library in Poughkeepsie around 1971-72 (All Music Guide lists the record as 1965--is this accurate? I would've thought later). It's a bit disgruntling, looking over the pieces, to realize I'd actually heard Feldman and Brown without having a clue who they were. I knew, vaguely, Cage and Stockhausen, having borrowed a 2-disc set of the former's "Atlas Eclipticalis" (entirely over my head) and the latter's Microphonie II (on Angel?), which I liked.

Got a lot of early exposure to things from that Library, even though its jazz and 20th century classical stock was pretty small, probably less than 100 LPs. Heard Dolphy there, "The Amazing Bud Powell", Honneger ("Pacific 235"), Scriabin, Prokofiev, Herbie Hancock, Barber ("Vanessa", something I should listen to again), others.

Four Esquilos.....


Michael Vorfeld - Ringing Light ----Graham Halliwell - On the Sensation of Tone (Esquilo)

Two minidiscs of solo work, not entirely dissimilar despite the difference in instrumentation, both dealing with sustained sounds integrating the pure with the...less pure. Vorfeld uses electric lights (and glitches thereof), blended with stringed instruments of his own design. The sounds themselves are lovely, the structure somewhat more diffuse than I found myself wanting. It was designed in conjunction with some graphic work and might well benefit being heard in tandem. Halliwell's feedback saxophone, heard here in work culled from 2003-05, gracefully intertwines strands of tone in lovely braids and then...well then, damage appeared on my disc (yes, I was momentarily unsure if it was intended or not, an occupational hazard in these fields). Through the glitch storm, I could make out the continued pattern for the last few minutes and it's quite attractive.

Each is a limited edition of 100.


Rebecca - Variation no 12 (Esquilo)

[Apologies for the range of images sizes; I'm going with the largest and/or clearest I can locate]

Kai Fagaschinski (clarinet) and Michael Renkel (guitar, zither) comprise Rebecca, here offering a 1/2 hour + performance from 2005. It's one of those welcome pieces that works as a whole rather than in an episodic fashion, meaning the listener has to "stand back" a bit, but the result is all the more satisfying when you do. Even so, there's a section about midway through that stands out for sheer sonic gorgeousness. Good fluctuation in approach, held my interest throughout. Fine stuff, recommended.



Tomas Korber/Utah Kawasaki - Pocket Size Isolationism (Esquilo)

(btw, there is still no better name, anywhere, than Utah Kawasaki)

From 2006, each credited with guitar, electronics and microphones. It's a tougher row to hoe than the Rebecca, full of insectile skitters that occasionally rise to the level of ear-rending shrieks, in some ways a fine (if unintentional) compliment to Rebecca, an acid bath after relative luxuriousness. The term cricketacious springs to mind. The ebb and flow of the form is more eai-traditional, washes and chitters blanketing one another steadily, with a few jolts tossed in. Good recording, though not as "whole" as the Rebecca, my personal favorite of this latest passel of Esquilalia.

esquilo

Ferran Fages - al volant d'un para/.lel (Etude)

One general aesthetic notion that unfailingly fascinates me is what I think of as the "pendulum effect", that is, when a form or individual artists swings between one (ostensible) pole and another, picking up information from each and applying it across town, so to speak. So, an abstract painter might return to a kind of realism, but it will be informed from lessons learned in abstraction and, inevitably, emerge differently than it would have otherwise, generally reinvigorated. Fages, for a while now at least on his solo projects, has "returned" (I imagine he never left) to a kind of traditional approach, the guitar played as a guitar in a fairly tonal, very seductive manner, melodic after a fashion, intuitive. Quantifying exactly how it's different from what would have transpired had he not been involved in freer formats is, to be sure, a fool's errand, but one has the strong sense that it's the case. The pieces here are quite overtly beautiful, somewhat self-similar, Fages spending much time in the lower registers, brooding, allowing tones to hang, contemplating them with a certain melancholy. Take Bailey at his most tonal then up that tonality by 50% and you're in the ballpark. Lovely disc, well worthwhile.

etude




Massimo Magee with Barry Chabala - Filter (Array Music)

There's relaxed and then there's relaxed. Magee trawls perilously near whatever the dividing line is (if it is) between purposive playing and, well, less than purposive playing. At least, so it seems to me here. If I don't listen closely, it sounds fine. If I do, I find myself wanting more cohesion, more intent. This may entirely be a failing on my part, seriously. This is one of those recordings that I wouldn't be at all surprised to return to in a few years and say, "Oh sure, of course, that's what was happening." For now, dunno. Two cuts here; on the first Magee is solo for some 26 minutes, with a bunch of noisemakers, some electronic, and a tape of himself on soprano sax recorded just prior. The often free/avant style of the sax bothers me on the one hand but, when sliced and diced, not so much. While there's some degree of layering, there's more a sense of a fellow wandering about the room, casually triggering this or not touching that, not very concerned as to the outcome. (Watch, I'll find out that the whole escapade was pre-programmed down to the second). Still, it's all about choice-making; the interesting thing for me, here, is that after several listens, I remain ambivalent about whether I think his choices were apt or if aptness isn't the relevant criterion. Barry appears (via long distance, non-synchronous playing, I believe) and adds some more "traditional" consistency with delicate notes amongst the Mageesian detritus. Intriguing disc....


Massimo Magee - Any Way You Slice It (Array Music)

Similar in some ways to the above, this one has a more linear character, more thoroughgoing structure, due in large part to the consistency of underlying, quietly noisy sounds and the more overt saxophonics (tenor and soprano) atop. Magee, in the notes, mentions using the recording itself as a kind of instrument, freely utilizing "start/stop/pause/rewind" which is apparent at several points. When the tenor, some 25 minutes in, launches into more traditional playing (David Murray-ish, that is) including, um, "Mack the Knife", it's more problematic, though I'd assume Magee acknowledges this and wants us to deal with it. Again, intriguing...

Both of Massimo's discs, and more, are downloadable from array music

Filling in the gaps. One of the phrases that kept returning to me last evening at a lovely performance by The Magnets (Annette Krebs/guitar, electronics), Magda Mayas (piano) and Anthea Caddy (cello) at the Stone. If you only isolated the sounds created by each musician, you might think that there's a real danger of a jerky, disconnectness occurring, but it never happened, not once. They unerringly filled the interstices left by each other, doing so rapidly enough that you barely had a moment to recognize that there may have been a gap at all. At least part of this might have to do with their musical nature. Mayas, in particular, seems to be an inherently extremely melodic player, perhaps filling a role here similar to what Tilbury did in AMM. She spent most of her time inside the piano (what keyboard work she did largely dealt with prepared strings--very beautifully handled, incidentally--save for one clear, low chord), edging often toward the harsh but always managing to ground things in at least a quasi-tonal framework. Caddy was at the other extreme, all extended technique of a generally abrasive (though quiet) nature, never overbearing, always seeking to insert her sounds into the thicker fabric spun by Mayas and Krebs. Krebs was the wild card, and a wonderful one, ranging through conversation samples, sine-like tones and various guitar attacks, both melding with her comrades and opening the unexpected door.

"Sustained" was the other word I kept thinking; how well both pieces (a longish one, about 35 minutes and a shorter piece of 10 or so) were sustained, how they floated. Very impressive, hope to hear more.

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Glad to see Pinnell has risen to my bait!

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Thanks for all the beauty and honesty, Mr. Updike.

A long while ago, maybe two or three years, I received an e-mail from one Lars Gotrich would had, as I recall, seen some mention I'd made about having attended a WSQ/Max Roach (with M'Boom) concert--I think the only such event--at St. John the Divine Cathedral in the early 80s and bemoaning the lack of a recording therefrom. We said that he in fact owned one such and graciously offered to send me a copy. That was the last I heard and, naturally, I soon forgot all about it.

Then a couple weeks back a package appears bearing two discs worth of music from the event courtesy Mr. Gotrich! Sounds very good and I'm a bit surprised how much I specifically remember, especially those piece from Roach's M'Boom ensemble. So, thanks, Lars!

He also runs a small CDR label and kindly sent along three recent releases, at least one of which might be of interest to regular readers here.


Nick Hennies - Paths (Thor's Rubber Hammer)

I'm unfamiliar with Hennies' prior work (percussionist with Weird Weeds and Jandek), but here we have a solo no-input mixer performance. Thought Toshi had cornered the field! It's brief, about 24 minutes, but very well structured and considered, keeping to a subdued volume range but allowing things to fluctuate-and-hold in a very natural series of patterns, balancing between changes in timbre and (slow) pulse. Kind of unusually for this area of recording, I can easily imagine myself hearing this live--there's a clearly apparent sense of volume here despite the quietude. Fine work, well worth checking out.


(Various) Last Winter We Didn't Sing (Thor's Rubber Hammer)

A compilation revolving around winter, fairly song-oriented, with at least a couple of people readers here will recognize: Greg Davis and Susan Alcorn. The tone is pretty consistent throughout: wistfully melodic, but the approaches vary nicely. A rich acoustic guitar piece by Scott Tuma leads into a very attractive, melancholy song by The Instruments (about whom I can't find much aside from their myspace page--excellent sound with e-piano, percussion, guitar, cello.voice, french horn)--beautiful song, worth picking up the disc for by itself. Davis' piece begins with a rich electronic assault before, very weirdly, segueing into "Silent Night". Yes, that "Silent Night"; very unsilent. Fabio Orsi's "Dead Leaves" is rather Eno-ambient in nature, but well done in that sphere followed by a lengthy and thoughtful pedal steel improvisation by Alcorn, maybe midway between Frisell and Connors. Other pieces by Chartreuse, Beggin' Your Pardon Miss Joan, and Nicholas Szczepanik.


Gene Janas/Jeffrey Hayden Shurdut - Ray-Gun (Thor's Rubber Hammer)
Nine tracks on a 3" disc, with Janas (bass, vocals) and Shurdut (Alto, trumpet, piano) screeching, gurgling and generally carrying on in post-free, skronk fashion, not a favorite avenue of mine. The vocalizations can be embarrassing ("Here comes de judge!"), as though going for something like the AEC's "The Spiritual" and falling way short. Take everything I don't like about Viz Fest (both have played with folk like Daniel Carter, Marshall Allen, etc.), and it's pretty much encapsulated here. For others, of course, this may be exactly what excites them.

All three available from Thor's Rubber Hammer