And about those titles: Yes, they are long. They are joyful. He misspelled Gandhi’s name, yes. There is something to be said about how Andre can only use language to say and withhold what he feels. It’s tempting to paint some kind of narrative on instrumental music, especially something as vague and overtly personal as this. You can read the beautiful sighs New blue sun As a commentary on the comfort of anonymity Andre must feel, or how the safety of a group of like-minded people allows you to take a closer look at the darkness outside. If you’re not looking at the tracklist, you can do that. But these song titles distract you, keep you from taking this stuff seriously, and from reading too much into it. You could call it a trick, but it feels like a way to keep the music light and exciting, and to protect the exploratory spirit that helped create it.
Despite his lyrical prowess, Andre always sought to get what the song needed; Consider the method of the back half of the “Bob“He is given over to evangelical delirium, or how.”SpottieOttieDopaliscious“An indescribable hook is a wordless trumpet line. Here he does the same thing, moving cautiously and asserting himself only when he feels it is right. He tests the “slang” for weaknesses, caresses its fabric with his flute, picks it up lightly for fear of tearing the seam. Armed with his getaway flute on “that night in Hawaii when I turned into a tiger and started making low-register purring notes that I couldn’t control…it was wild,” he became more confident. He insults like Rahsaan Roland Kirk, warps like Eric Dolphy, lays down a tune, then filters it and lets it simmer against the muted vibration of Deantoni Parks’ drum.
Parks, like the rest of the band, is a full participant in the creation of this music, and all around New blue sun, other instrumentalists demonstrate their ability to generate new sounds spontaneously. On “Ninety Three ‘Til Infinity and Beyoncé,” Matthew David scrapes and smears thick noise grains like wheat paste across the track, and Botovacina brings to mind “Laragi.” Vision Songs, Vol. 1 With his downstairs house organ in “The Slang Word”. Then there’s Diego Gaeta, playing piano that slowly turns in “Gandhi, the Dalai Lama, your Lord and Savior J.C./Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer, and John Wayne Gacy” are the rotors in the gyro, a counterweight that keeps the whole thing from collapsing. He flirts with dreamy fulfillment, injects a bit of gospel, then slips into resigned darkness, barely touching the keys; The way his playing sits like an upside-down glass above the buzzing fly of Andre’s tune New blue sun Closer to the tragic experiences of Tim Hecker Ravidith, 1972 From jazz or new age.
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