Dogs Of Pleasure - Embrace

 

Embrace

As I’ve mentioned in other reviews, I am fascinated by islands of all kinds. I would say that just as their isolation leads to unique ecosystems, there is something about islands that affects their music as well. Embrace by the free-improv duo Dogs Of Pleasure (Julius Schwing on guitar and Alfred Jackson on drums) is a great example of an album informed by a different sort of mindset than one raised on the mainland. This is music of triply insular origin: Schwing and Jackson are based on Bruny Island, a relatively tiny sliver of land off the southeast coast of Tasmania, Australia. I’ve heard Tasmania described as feeling like “the edge of the universe”. The sounds of Embrace are certainly sounds of the edge - raw, rugged, unforgiving, combining scavenged bits of influences washed up by the tides to create something not quite like anything I’ve heard before. 
This is a heavy album, with a wild energy from start to finish. If the dogs referenced in the band name are pleasant, they are certainly not docile. Schwing’s distorted guitar howls and snarls, and Jackson’s drums charge and lash out all over the place. For all their noisiness, these improvisations are far from pure abstraction. Schwing’s shredding is often exaggerated out of melodic vocabulary with a deep blues or folk foundation. Schwing and Jackson form a tight duo to boot; they always seem to be listening closely though rarely mirroring each other. There are not a lot of different sounds on Embrace; Schwing and Jackson doggedly focus on a specific sonic palette throughout the six tracks. This focus is part of what makes the album particularly insular for me, like the limited-but-strange biodiversity of small or remote islands.
The first three tracks “Release The Hounds”, “Quarry”, and “Stretchmarks, Pigtails, And Bloodlines” stay in a concentrated earspace of aggravated guitar and flying drums. Schwing steps things up yet another notch speed-wise on the shortest track, “Buzzcut”, with playful up-and-down shredding. “The Bagman” is the only track with a groove throughout; it’s a feral, overdriven free-rock jam with a folk-singer lyricism shining through in Schwing’s lines. Despite its volume this one is really the album’s “ballad”. Then it’s back to the brutal zone for the final “Embrace”, this time with Schwing droning apocalyptically over almost-blast-beats from Jackson. Like the previous track this one stays in a single key throughout. The metal qualities in “Embrace”, as well as the rock/folk sound of “The Bagman”, show that this music is not easily classifiable “free jazz” but rather a monumental adventure through and beyond its component genres.
Immersive and visceral, Embrace is full-body music. Far from being alien in its remoteness, it sounds like right now in all its complexity. Schwing and Jackson are feeling what they are playing with the same intense connection that I’m sure they have to the wild landscape of their island. When I finally make that trip to Australia I hypothesized about in an earlier review, I’ll be sure to visit Bruny Island and compare my own impression with what I hear on Embrace.

Main Drag Improvisers Series: December 6, 2023

December 6th’s Main Drag show was a night of five trios. Having a consistent ensemble size really accentuated the many approaches free-improv groups can take, with not much in common in terms of overall sound between the sets besides their trio-ness.

First up was a grand electronic adventure. Tenor saxophonist Ayumi Ishito, guitarist Trevor Deke Bajus (Main Drag’s resident handyman), and drummer Yuko Togami all augmented their instruments with synths and effects setups, and the result was a suitably alien collection of fascinating future-scapes. Though all players used their electronics to their full potential, the vibe of this set was largely subdued and serene - no noise for noise’s sake. These were detailed explorations of distant space scenes, evolving continuously through the unbroken set without any abrupt shifts in texture. The first entrances of the sax and the drums rose inexorably out of drones; even the linear interplay between Bajus and Ishito near the middle, full of funky flangered blues vocabulary, began and ended quite gradually. This and the final episode, a pretty, balladic section with minimal effects, were reminders that free improv doesn’t have to be tonally abstract, even with such a futuristic sonic arsenal.

Having heard (and reviewed) drummer Ken Kobayashi in a guitar/bass/drums trio before, I’d say his set tonight was particularly effective. Adam Caine on guitar and Adam Lane on bass matched Kobayashi’s high energy level in ways that sustained interest throughout. Everything Caine plays has meaning, and Lane always digs in hard; put it all together and we get a strongly concentrated intensity in the ensemble sound. Much of this was driven by Lane, who got a couple of featured moments but also supplied a lead voice at some climactic trio points. But Caine also had plenty of chances to steer the others to some riveting places, using relatively few effects and focusing on his trademark subtly romantic lyricism. The second half of the set, with its extended sections of groove, felt like rock engineered out of jazz. It ended in a way that seemed a surprise to the players as much as the audience: a noisy collective explosion shifted into some atmospheric drones, followed by a solo drum conclusion.

Adam Lane stayed on for the next group, Stephen Gauci’s weekly trio this time with Colin Hinton on drums. As usual, this venerable lineup created something truly spectacular. Hinton brings a vast dynamic range to this trio, spurring even noisier peaks of activity from Gauci and Lane than I hear with other drummers. For such an intense ensemble, there was a a lot of listening here, with Gauci and Hinton in particular tightly punctuating each other’s phrases. All three players had solo moments; Gauci’s stood out as his often do, toggling uncannily between the romantic and the apoplectic. There were plenty of opportunities for him to feature one of my favorite techniques of his that I haven’t heard other saxophonists explore like he does: the alternation between already high overtones and an even higher squeal register. Though often aggressive when the trio is going hard together, this can also be cute - like a bird’s voice break. At one point near the end Gauci’s squeal-licks transitioned seamlessly into Lane’s trademark wah-pedal bowing.

Fourth was a requisitely bizarre set by three of the most recognizable improvisers of the entire scene: soprano saxophonist Sam Newsome, bassist Caleb Duval, and drummer Kevin Murray. Newsome and Duval began without effects, joined by Murray’s exuberant clattering in a hyperactive, linear opening episode. Shortly after Duval first hit the pedals, Newsome busted out his own effects: a set of tubes, bells, and other acoustic objects with which he modifies his instrument. From that point on, except for a few later linear sections, this was less an interconnected improv trio than a noise set by three soloists on acoustic instruments. It certainly worked, though, in an alien way - not quite performance art and not quite outsider music. Between Duval’s unhinged bowing, Murray’s arsenal of esoteric stickings, and Newsome’s literal bag of tricks, this was as entertaining to watch as to listen to.

In some ways, the last group was even weirder. Andre Matos on guitar, Leo Genovese on synth and soprano sax, and Billy Mintz on drums brought us something truly from another dimension. Like the first set this one grew out of drones at the beginning, but instead of epic, serene space scenes, here was a chaotic, fractured vision of the multiverse. Mintz kept up a fun shuffling groove through the first 13 minutes for Matos and Genovese to slide around and shred over, improvising against both each other and the drums; but again, this was a group sound just absurd enough to work. There was a satisfying collective control of dynamics, with well-defined ups and downs throughout. Hearing Genovese on soprano right after Sam Newsome was quite an ear-opener; it was obvious that the energy of his lines and multiphonics was not coming from a place of chops like Newsome’s, though no less valid in their wildness and often matched in that regard by Matos with his fidgety two-handed tapping. 

Watch the whole show on Youtube!

Jon Crompton: Cantata No. 1: An Island Seen And Felt, The DiMenna Center, September 9, 2023

Cantata No. 1 on Vimeo

Music inspired by a specific place, music that brings together unlikely stylistic influences, contemporary music that incorporates the meticulous detail of Renaissance and Baroque counterpoint - these are things that speak to me. Saxophonist and composer Jon Crompton’s Cantata No. 1: An Island Seen And Felt ticks all these boxes. Hearing this piece in its premiere performace was a satisfyingly exquisite experience that twiddled all the right knobs in my brain. 

In An Island Seen And Felt, Crompton paid homage to where he grew up: the Surf Coast Shire of southeast Australia. In three movements, he created immersive soundscapes with an instrumentation full of melody: two soprano voices, string quartet, alto sax, and electric guitar. As perhaps suggested by this lineup, the piece combined elements of jazz, modern and contemporary classical, Baroque and Renaissance music; however, the representation of scenes took priority over any specifics of style. I was impressed by how focused Crompton’s work was; though suitably varied enough to sustain interest, it really was a depiction of a location rather than a linear narrative. There was no major story line here other than the arc of day, or at least of a trip to a beach. I could easily picture the Surf Coast from this music, with its wide-open, maritime modality; it bumped a visit to Australia higher up my bucket list. Calm and meditative throughout even at its most active, the piece had little of the turbulence I associate with what I’ve read about the Southern Ocean - further piquing my curiosity.

This was a piece infused with a strong sense of wonder, a reverence for the beauty of both music and nature. The subtle wildness of Crompton’s and guitarist James Wengrow’s improvising toward the beginning and end, the Latin psalm text of the vocal episodes, and the eclectic diversity of approaches to counterpoint were all evocative of detailed sea and shore ecosystems in all their complexity. The second movement was more stylized than the others, concentrated on exploring string counterpoint in a Baroque-to-Neoclassical vein, but the voice and sax lines, swirling in waves and eddies, indicated that the beach was never far away.

Besides the composition itself, I really enjoyed the quality of this performance. This was an extremely tight ensemble, with nothing rough anywhere around the edges. Wengrow in particular stood out in the way he provided the atmospheric, textural aspect of the first and third movements: a solid background layer with a highly personal touch. But all members of this group were committed to making An Island Seen And Felt truly come to life. This was a performance that brought me toward an island, and allowed me to come very close to seeing and feeling it.

Main Drag Improvisers Series: October 11, 2023

 Though at times similar in its free-improv language, the Main Drag show of October 11, 2023 had quite a different overall vibe from the one I previously reviewed two weeks earlier. Both were eclectic collections of disparate soundscapes, but while the sets on September 27th coalesced into a larger-scale form, this latter installment had fewer unifying threads. This was a night of the immediate, with many outstanding moments brought about by a cast of instantly recognizable improvisers.

A rising-star trio, featuring TJ Milan-Bombara on tenor sax, Gian Perez on guitar, and Asher Herzog on drums, began the night with a relatively short, unbroken set of concentrated intensity. This ensemble was not always the most balanced in terms of volume, with Perez sometimes dominating the aural space; however, the collective high energy somehow managed to make this work. All three players were really going for it, even in the occasional quieter sections. Both Perez and Milan-Bombara were constantly turning the dial between tonality and noise, showing a passionate vigor at both ends of the spectrum propelled by Herzog’s often restless drumming. Milan-Bombara displayed an impressive, well-timed “bag of tricks” - from tongue-slaps and key-clicks through circular breathing to literally screaming into his bell, and even shaking his salakot hat as a percussion instrument. I’m sure we’ll hear more from him in this series soon.

The second group illustrated just how different two improvising ensembles with a similar instrumentation can be. This set by alto saxophonist Travis Sullivan, keyboardist Eishin Nose, and drummer Bob Meyer was in several ways the opposite of the first set. This was a seasoned trio with an emphasis on listening, creating an interconnected group sound often made introspective and subdued through Meyer’s use of brushes. There were some tight grooves, but more interesting to me were sections in which the players occupied a single rhythmic space together without playing in time, such as over a slow rubato vamp Nose hit near the beginning. Though Sullivan and Nose entered the shred zone at powerful climactic points, both were always focused on lines or harmonies; there were almost no extended techniques. This was truly “free jazz” rather than “free improv”. One important distinction from the previous set was how this trio handled shifts of dynamic and density: everything here was gradual, with no one bumrushing the others in abrupt entrances.

Like September 27, this date happened to be another on which both Kevin Shea and Colin Hinton were busy, so Stephen Gauci’s weekly trio appeared again with a guest drummer. Patrick Golden joined Gauci and the trio’s regular bassist Adam Lane for a set with again a different collective sound from either usual lineup. Golden provided a busy stream of energy, keeping more of a consistent rhythm section role than Hinton or Shea often do. This support in the drums allowed Lane to take a more dominant role, really digging in with his bow and wah pedal. Gauci began with relatively subdued, linear vocabulary but didn’t take long to reach his characteristic high-overtoned register. The real magic here was in solo and duo moments. There were two sections of solo Gauci improv, both with a ritualistic edge that punched right in the gut. Lane was at his most uninhibited in duo settings, both with Gauci and Golden.

Until this show I was unfamiliar with vocalist Hanna Schörken, but seeing the rest of the lineup on the fourth set - Sandy Ewen on prepared guitar, Eric Plaks on keyboard, and James Paul Nadien on drums - I knew we were in for something spectacular. This was by far the most genuinely Dada set I’ve heard yet in this series. Free-improvised vocals can be hard to get to, but Schörken’s style was utterly mesmerizing, full of consonants, breathy syllables, and extreme high and low registers. Her versatile playfulness fit right in with Ewen and Nadien at their noisiest. Nadien was inspired to a performance-art level of absurdity with literal bells and whistles, humming into his snare drum, and hamboning his face and chest. As the one instrumentalist using linear and chordal material, Plaks could have seemed out of place, but his melodies and harmonies really formed one more layer for Schörken to react to. He blended a bit more with the others around the middle of the set through the use of distortion as well as his trademark flying-fingered shredding. The dialogue between Schörken and Plaks toward the end was particularly fascinating, like a Dadaist art song until Ewen and Nadien entered to spur them on to some exuberant closing pyrotechnics.

The show finished with the newest of this series’ regular large ensembles, Adam Caine's Main Drag Guitar Orchestra, in its second of hopefully many performances. This and the preceding quartet were the dual high points of the night for me. The music of the guitar orchestra was nothing like I had expected, especially given the personnel: a redoubtable slice of New York’s avant-jazz guitar scene comprising Gian Perez, Sam Day Harmet, Keenan Ruffin, Nick Saia, Matt Hollenberg, Max Kutner, Harvey Valdes, and Aaron Quinn with Colson Jimenez on electric bass and Vijay Anderson on drums. Caine trained this beast of an ensemble through six elegant original compositions. Most were impossible to assign to genre but several had a pretty, almost classical sound. Though there were plenty of opportunities for things to get quirky and angular, the polished sonic environment was a far cry from the resolute abstraction within every constituent player’s capability. One piece was even a straight-ahead jazz blues, on which trading between all eight guitarists led to many goofy moments of skronkularity. The last piece was a satisfyingly strong ending: a riveting chunk of rock minimalism, full of imposing unison loops that steadily built up momentum to a massive final chord.

Watch the whole show on Youtube!

Main Drag Improvisers Series: September 27, 2023

 When multiple free-improv ensembles share a concert, it’s particularly effective if each group really stands out from the others. This is what I witnessed at the grandiose Rhythm In The Kitchen festival earlier in September, in which every set covered completely different musical territory despite the occasional player appearing in more than one band. I would also say this about the September 27 entry in tenor saxophonist Stephen Gauci’s iconic weekly series at Main Drag. Three trios, a sextet, and a quartet, with some overlap in instrumentation but none in personnel, created five distinct worlds. These places were not unrelated, either - the entire show had an elegant shape to it, with each set providing a logical contrast to the previous one.

The show started with a unique trio consisting of TJ Borden on cello, Kevin Ramsay on guitar, daxophone, and electronics, and Sam Yulsman on keyboard. In the absence of percussive instruments, this group often kept the focus on melody and harmony. The cavernous space of Main Drag made the three instruments’ interlocking lines blend together in an iridescent tangle, with a delicate beauty not always heard in this series. Things did get a bit noisy, especially near the end, but it seemed like someone was playing lines or chords at all times. When Borden was digging in with extended techniques and electronic effects, with Yulsman hitting low clusters of drones, it was actually Ramsay’s daxophone that kept the melodic focus. The daxophone is a bowed wood instrument, not designed to produce definite pitches - but in this particular setting it seemed to sing as clearly as any cello. Ramsay and Borden’s interplay created some fascinating juxtapositions between melody and its approximation. 

Next up was a high-Kenergy trio set by guitarist Jeff Miles, bassist Ken Filiano, and drummer Ken Kobayashi. The contrast with the set before couldn’t have been greater. Where there was a lot of listening going on in the first trio, the members of this one often seemed to be playing against each other. Individually these players are great improvisers, but their collective sound was a bit difficult to get to, especially the way Miles and Kobayashi remained hyperactive even in quieter moments. This group only really came together at climactic points of intensity and rare instances of groove. Filiano seemed to realize the mismatch; his playing got progressively sparser toward the end of the first part of the set while the others kept going. He returned in the second part with some interesting percussive textures, but I think they would have been more exciting in a more responsive context.

Gauci’s own trio came third as usual, but in a very special edition: both Kevin Shea and Colin Hinton were performing elsewhere that night, so it fell to James Paul Nadien to take over on drums. Adam Lane, this trio’s most frequent bassist, completed the lineup. This group had none of the previous set’s connectivity issues. Even at their high level of intensity, Lane and Nadien created a solid substrate for Gauci to sail over. There was a definite form to this set; it started relatively subdued with Gauci almost dipping into bebop vocabulary, and only toward the middle and at the very end did we get extended helpings of his habitual high-harmonic hollering over Lane’s signature stentorian skronks. Nadien gave this trio a different vibe, a bit bouncier than Hinton or Shea; grooves like the one he struck in the last section, with Lane rocking out on blues-scale riffs, are a rare occurrence in these Gauci sets. Lane acted as a double agent here, locking in closely with Nadien when plucking but with Gauci when bowing.

The lineup was also slightly irregular for the ensuing installment of Biggish, the roughly monthly medium-size ensemble series-within-a-series led by Yoni Kretzmer and Juan Pablo Carletti. Jeff Davis was filling in for Carletti on drums, and Kretzmer played alto sax instead of his usual tenor. This smaller-than-usual Biggish also included Kenny Warren on trumpet, Rick Parker on trombone, Andrew Hadro on baritone sax, and Peter Bitenc on bass. Kretzmer contributed some composed and arranged material, but there was plenty of room for high-level, tuned-in improv. For me, Biggish was the high point of the whole show. Kretzmer’s beautiful sound on alto was just as rich as Hadro’s regal baritone; at one point the two saxophonists engaged in an exquisitely interconnected episode of trading phrases. The arrangements included some very satisfying ensemble textures, including lush pseudo-Ellingtonian chords, tight baritone-bass unisons, and Ornette-ish themes from one or two horns with the others buzzing around in harmonious drones - worthy vehicles for improvised sections. The set closed with a quite unexpected version of Alanis Morissette’s ballad “Uninvited”. Festive yet somehow also meditative, this ending reminded me of the classic downtown avant-jazz-pop of Sex Mob or The Jazz Passengers.

The finale of this show featured a quartet of strikingly individual improvisers: Sana Nagano on violin, Matt Hollenberg on guitar, Jeong Lim Yang on bass, and Patrick Golden on drums. This was another high-intensity set, quite loud most of the time - but all the volume was worth it. These players’ varied vocabularies all coalesced in a highly textured sea of sound, with much of the texture provided by Nagano’s and Hollenberg’s distinctive repertoires of effects. There was a vastness about the whole set - even the quiet parts had a sea-deep layer. The concentrated energy of this last set made me visualize the whole show’s overarching form as not too dissimilar, fractally, from Gauci’s trio set - starting with nuance and melody and building through various ups and downs into a spectacularly rousing conclusion.

Watch the whole show on Youtube!

Max Kutner - High Flavors

 

High Flavors

On paper, guitarist/composer Max Kutner’s High Flavors looks like a jazz album. The eight tracks are of expected jazz lengths, between three and seven minutes. The instrumentation of trumpet, tenor sax, electric guitar, electric bass, and drums seems to place us firmly in contemporary jazz territory. Yet Kutner’s specific approach both as a player and composer places his music in a genre of its own, somewhere slightly outside jazz. The ingredients of jazz are all there, but put together in a unique combination that sounds like no jazz you’ve ever heard before. With additional influences of prog, noise rock, and post-minimalism, Kutner and his quintet create something unabashedly quirky and consistently fascinating.
Kutner, trumpeter Eli Asher, saxophonist Michael Eaton, bassist Kurt Kotheimer, and drummer Colin Hinton form a very tight band that rides sure-footedly through all the prickly complications of the leader’s writing. High Flavors is an adventure of an album. Each track is very different, though tied together by their instrumentation and the meticulous (even mischievous) level of detail in Kutner’s compositions - particularly in the rhythmic vocabulary and development of thematic cells. A further unifying element is the relative lack of solos; with few exceptions, all the improvising is either collective or embedded in an otherwise written ensemble texture.
This is an album full of contrasts, as clearly illustrated in the opening track, “Deramping”. The clean, bright-toned unison loop at the beginning gives no indication that this piece will end in thundering lumps of noise. On all tracks, the horns (and to some extent the drums) lend a hard-bop sort of vibrance, often juxtaposed aggressively with the rock-esque guitar and bass. “A High Point Of Low Culture” feels especially like jazz that’s been taken apart and reassembled differently. It’s an atonal swinger with mashed-up spoken-word samples introduced as an extra melody instrument. “Infinity Has No Center” is a quartet improv with no trumpet; it begins as a simple, subdued meditation and evolves into an angular tangle of interlocking lines.
In “In Want Of An Interpolative Escape Machine”, a joyous mixed-meter theme leads to an extended free section in which Kutner’s rumbling, crackling distortion takes over, threatening to smother the return of the ensemble at the end but never fully obliterating the festivities. The through-composed “Struggling Sometimes” is well named: its harmonic progression always seems to be on the way somewhere, never quite resolving. Like the first two tracks, “Flavors Hook Kids” explores the contrast between jazz and not-quite-jazz. The modal windiness of the horn voicings, as well as the glockenspiel sample at the beginning, give this one almost a “West Coast cool” sound - a style ripe for subverting.
The second completely improvised track, “Towers Collapsing” is as far from the written pieces as possible. It’s a three-minute chunk of absurd, noisy rubble, with Asher whistling wildly through his mouthpiece at the beginning. Frantic and fragmented, it feels much longer than it is. The final piece, “Less A Moral Lesson”, is the album’s longest. The written material is dominated by constantly shifting rhythmic cycles and slippery, raga-like unison lines. As with some of the others, this one is largely atonal with no easy harmonic handles to grasp. The ghostly atmospheric drone which runs through the middle (including Hinton’s otherwise solo improv) amplifies this piece’s disorienting strangeness.
High Flavors is a fitting title for this album: these are no basic flavors. With so much going on in this music, each track is worth multiple listens for the aural tastebuds to fully appreciate. If you really sink your teeth into it, you may discover new flavor profiles every time. It may be an acquired taste, but if you’ve acquired it you’ll recognize this album as a next-level flavor sensation.

Nick Neuburg - Cryptic Exaltations

Cryptic Exaltations

My introduction to Nick Neuburg as a percussionist came about in 2021 at the notorious outdoor debut performance of the short-lived (but much-needed) quintet Strictly Missionary. Neuburg was seated on the ground and essentially invisible in the dark, behind the rest of the band. I couldn’t see him from where I was but I could certainly tell something ridiculous was going on back there - an added layer of absurd acoustic noise that helped give this music its feral edge. To me, listening to Neuburg’s new solo improv album Cryptic Exaltations is a similar experience - these exaltations (in whichever sense of that word you want) are indeed cryptic. Without a visual element, the instrumentation is left to the listener’s imagination. Having witnessed Neuburg in action in more visible settings, I know there are knives, bowls, bows, pipes, and styrofoam involved as well as at least some parts of a more conventional drum set, but the “what” and the “how” of many sounds are impossible to place.
The ten tracks are little textural vignettes, more scenes than stories - perhaps scenes from alternate universes, or at least far-away worlds. The opening track, “Unbroken Sentence”, begins with a sonorous scraping across a rough terrain of gongings and buzzes, which eventually rises into a windy jangle. Like many others, this one feels simultaneously ritualistic and spasmodic. This longest track is followed by the shortest (but longest-titled), the one-and-a-half-minute “Picking it up and then picking it up again” - a dark swamp of thumps and fricative squeaks. “Breath Fraction” begins in a similarly low space full of bowing and rubbing, interspersed with sudden shudders and chitters. “Seeing +” seems to involve some sort of brush or comb come to life, snarling and rattling its teeth. In “Without Culture” we enter a land of pots and pans, belling and boinging to each other. “I am Flickering” brings back a bowed texture, this one like a brutal fiddle conversing with otherworldly birds. “Deleted on Contact” is similar but scraped and scrubbed instead of bowed. There is a linguistic element in the way Neuburg bows and rubs his instruments, but not in the realm of human language - perhaps the animal voices of a universe where there are no sentient species, or at least where the highest consciousness would be unrecognizable in our world. The frenetic, gabbling “Touch Fraction” is a striking example of this, as is the calmer “No zone a zone”. The last track, “Infinity Dance”, has a few more recognizable drum and cymbal sounds but not without some unique rattling and chattering.
I must confess I don’t listen to a lot of recorded solo noise improv like this - I generally prefer to experience this music live where I can see it being made. Listening to Cryptic Exaltations, however, might change that. Instead of taking something away from the music, a purely audio setting for this kind of improvising adds a new layer of mystery. It’s fun to fill in what could be happening in these pieces in the absence of visuals, and I look forward to doing so for other albums on the 1039 label - most of which so far have also been solo improvisations. There’s certainly something to be gained in making your exaltations cryptic.