Thursday, February 26, 2009

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.


Available stateside, while supplies last, at erstdist

Sunday, February 22, 2009

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)

Monday, February 16, 2009

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.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

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


Tuesday, February 10, 2009

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.


Monday, February 09, 2009

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.

Sunday, February 08, 2009

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

Friday, February 06, 2009

Wednesday, February 04, 2009

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.


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.

Monday, February 02, 2009

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.