Revisiting these albums, it feels like you both have a lot of common ground, for example, just how you like to experiment from a sonic standpoint. Both of you weren't afraid to try random things.
No, no. It was very open, you know. That period of the '80s was wide open. We were getting more things, like, the whole guitar pedal technology was coming along and people were excited about it. So it was a time when you could still sort of pull off new stuff that people really hadn't heard yet. I'm proud to say that we were pretty cutting edge in what we did with those two records at that particular time.

It's also a time where you would hear people play something and wonder, "How are they doing that?" How much did that happen for you with Robert. Were there things you were curious about?
The simple answer to that, it was all in his hands. He really had this thing and he had good chops, as we say in musician circles. He could actually play quite fast. The thing that was almost weird with him and more difficult for him, was to play in 4/4 time or straight ahead. [Laughs] It was always 5/4 and all of these different kind of [time signatures]. So I thought, "Okay, well, that's what he does. We can mess around with that sonically and do it differently." I felt like the way he played were the bones of a piece and I would put on the flesh, as it were. That's the way we kind of built these pieces up.

Andy Summers Looks Back at His '80s Work With Robert Fripp

Some time ago I admitted I was a collector. Let's face it. What's the fun in filling our hard disks, our cloud storage, with music we consume like popcorn? Invisible, intangible, neutral, aseptic things like surgical masks. We are animals, both nomadic and sedentary, and we need objects around us that describe our territory, our cultural maps, that help us define and identify ourselves beyond banal marketing categories and that unite passion, nostalgia, and musical pleasure. We are complex people. Collecting records also means appreciating aspects that go far beyond the musical content: the cover, often a true work of art; the booklets, full of texts, photos, and anecdotes. For many collectors, a record is a tactile, haptic experience. An object to be touched, read, observed, and, above all, listened to. It's not simply about accumulating, but about preserving fragments of history, aesthetics, and emotion. Furthermore, each record represents a memory, a discovery, or a personal connection to an era, an artist, or a musical movement. At least these are the justifications we use to justify behavior that to most seems childish, adolescent, and fundamentally pointless. That's life.

And so I bought this box set, three CDs plus a Blu-ray DVD. And obviously, I'm happy with it; I got my money's worth. It wasn't necessary, of course, since I already had the CD of "I Advanced Mask" and the vinyl of "Bewitched," but the remastering by David Singleton and the unreleased tracks, along with Sid Smith's essay, are a more than satisfactory justification for making the effort.

What can I add to what I already wrote in "Neuguitars 2025 #8 Andy Summers and Robert Fripp Are Back with a New CD Box Set" which I invite you to reread? Not much, except that the sound on these albums truly makes a huge difference and that they are imperfect and imprecise records. It's true: free from their respective bands, Summers and Fripp on these albums give vent to their personal obsessions, creating a cold fusion of two very distinct and mutually opposed sounds: the one of the Police and that of King Crimson.

Both guitarists draw on the common ground of jazz and a shared passion for technology, with a truly remarkable result that exudes technological overuse, virtuosity, and brilliant ideas seeking further expansion. Listened to today, although the guitar synth sounds immediately place them in the cultural context of the early '80s, they present a freshness of sounds, ideas, and musical concepts that are perfectly relevant and capable of casting their shadow over much of today's experimental music.

“At that age, we were dicking around in the studio, trying out everything and trying to make exotic sounds that worked,” he explains in an interview with UCR. “It’s very much a reflection of the era.” The pair released two albums, 1982’s I Advance Masked and 1984’s Bewitched and to their surprise, they found there was an audience keenly interested in hearing what they’d done together. “The first one went inside the Billboard Top 50, which was amazing for an instrumental record like that

Andy Summers Looks Back At His '80s Work With Robert Fripp - Andy SummersAndy Summers

Why imperfect and imprecise? Perhaps the music is a bit self-serving. These records sound like an elegant, ironic, and cultured entertainment between two guitar geniuses who engage and blend on equal terms, a rare feat in Robert Fripp's professional career. There's no sense of friction; this music is a delightful interplay of light, shadow, mirrors, and interlocking pieces, and it plays with the elegance, functionality, and precision of a complicated Victorian mechanism. Music with a distinctly experimental edge, produced by a major label, A&M Records, a label that primarily focused on pop music and must not have generated much financial return from these two releases.

There's something else worth adding. The truth is that, perhaps I have entered a hauntological, nostalgic, middle-aged phase, but I adore this box set, which seems to have emerged from the fog of time and unleashes energetic, cultured, interesting, complex, minimalist music, so consistent with the styles of the two guitarists, where they reinterpret the song format in their own unique way, where the music is purely instrumental and where maximum space is given to their talents and interplay. Three CDs and a Blu-ray DVD where speed, intelligence, talent, electricity, and sleek early-'80s technology blend into a playful form that still exudes the fresh creative energy and glamour that those years always remind us of.

It must be added that Fripp and Summers never left; they are still with us, albeit in the close, dispersed, and distant form of today's mass media, still engaged in a myriad of personal projects with a high level of cultural, informational, and communicative impact. Their cultural legacy is immense, as is their sound, which immediately identifies them both as members of their original groups and as solo artists. Unlike most legendary rock bands, once their group experience ended, they didn't stop. They continued to chart their own personal communicative trajectories, remaining the cool, intelligent, and cutting-edge personalities they always were. While continuing to periodically provide their fans with new ideas, they have, cunningly and intelligently, begun a slow, inexorable process of publishing their archives through reissues, merchandise, and recordings of old concerts on their websites.

They have skillfully, and perhaps naturally, transformed themselves into transgenerational cultural influencers, both perfectly in step with an entertainment society overflowing with communication and devoid of true artistic expertise. Keeping pace with the times, they've transformed themselves into a museum entity, opening their archives, displaying the dusty tapes that, perhaps, they too had forgotten and never dreamed of revisiting. Of course, we're talking about a careful and astute reevaluation of their cultural heritage, an intangible heritage that seems daily undermined by the new AI version of mass culture so decried by Adorno. Can we blame them for this, for not leaving everything to a posthumous foundation or to their heirs? Two of a perfect pair.

"An artist revolves in a cycle of masterpieces, the first of which is no less perfect than the last." Oscar Wilde

When I read this aphorism by Oscar Wilde, I immediately thought of Fripp, his loops, and his continuous, incessant work. I bought this 8-CD box set as soon as it came out in 2022, I listened to it, and then I put it aside, always searching for new and stimulating things. Recently, I began to reflect on what an incredible process of collective removal these two or three post-Covid years have been, and I decided to listen to this music again, perhaps sensing a need for greater personal inner peace. But I think it's best to delve into a bit of history. Our times are moving fast and ever more rapidly. We need a pause to gather our thoughts.

Music For Quiet Moments (burningshed.com)

8CD FRIPP SOLO BOX SET (dgmlive.com)

"Quiet moments are when we put time aside to be quiet. Sometimes quiet moments find us. Quiet may be experienced with sound, and also through sound; in a place we hold to be sacred, or maybe on a crowded subway train hurtling towards Piccadilly or Times Square. Quiet Moments of my musical life, expressed in Soundscapes, are deeply personal; yet utterly impersonal: they address the concerns we share within our common humanity." Robert Fripp

On April 29, 2020, this announcement appeared on the DGM Live.com website, signed by David Sigleton: “On Friday, we will be launching the Robert Fripp "Music for Quiet Moments" series. We will be releasing a soundscape every Friday on DGMLive, Youtube, Spotify, Apple Music and all the main online music platforms. Hopefully something that will nourish us, and help us through these Uncertain Times. I have certainly enjoyed the peace that comes with editing and mastering them. Turning a seeming disadvantage to our advantage, a year at home without touring offers the chance to listen for the first time in many cases to existing live recordings.” The announcement is accompanied by a sort of mini manifesto in three parts where Fripp better defines his ideas regarding "quiet moments". This type of initiative is nothing new for Fripp, the year before (2019) on the occasion of King Crimson's 50th anniversary, 50 tracks of recordings made during the concerts had been made available on the band's YouTube channel.

I felt it necessary to purchase this box set for a few reasons: first, to have at least a fond memory of the lockdown and Covid-19 period. During that rather difficult and turbulent time, moments of musical quiet had become a rare necessity. Every Friday evening, I visited Robert Fripp's YouTube channel, listened to his music, and then posted it on my blog. Buying the box set seemed both a fitting thank you to Robert Fripp and a nice way to remind myself of the lockdown. It also seemed like an excellent way to have a truly representative sample of the soundscape work Fripp had always pursued over the years, always in a solitary and personal way, playing in secluded places and for small groups. The final aspect that caught my attention was the lyrics, divided into three parts, which Fripp had evidently felt compelled to write about these pieces.

Music For Quiet Moments…

I

A Quiet Moment is how we experience a moment: the moment which is here, now and available.

Quiet moments are when we put time aside to be quiet;
and also where we find them.
Sometimes quiet moments find us.

Some places have an indwelling spirit, where quiet is a feature of the space:
perhaps natural features in the landscape;
perhaps intentionally created, as in a garden;
perhaps where a spirit of place has come into being over time, as in an English country churchyard.

Quiet may be experienced with sound, and also through sound;
in a place we hold to be sacred, maybe on a crowded subway train hurtling towards Piccadilly or Times Square.

A Quiet Moment is more to do with how we experience time than how we experience sound.

A Quiet Moment prepares the space where Silence may enter.

Silence is timeless.

II

My own quiet moments, over fifty-one years of being a touring player, have been mostly in public places where, increasingly, a layer of noise has intentionally overlaid and saturated the sonic environment.

III

Quiet Moments of my musical life, expressed in Soundscapes, are deeply personal; yet utterly impersonal: they address the concerns we share within our common humanity.

Paradoxically, they have mostly taken place in public contexts inimical and unsupportive of quiet.

Some of these Soundscapes are inward-looking, reflective.
Some move outwards, with affirmation.
Some go nowhere, simply being where they are.

This text and Fripp's music itself brought me back to some ideas expressed by Walter Benjamin in his famous essay "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction," reprinted in the beautiful collection "Aura and Shock: Essays on Media Theory," published by Einaudi in 2012. Benjamin argued that in the last century, the masses were a matrix from which all habitual behavior toward works of art emerged, where quantity was converted into quality. In his words, Fripp seems to distance himself from a mass vision, implicitly suggesting the need for a more attentive, non-distracted listening to his music. An "immersive" listening. Fripp seems, perhaps romantically, to return to the idea that the masses unfamiliar with art seek only distraction, while the art lover approaches it with contemplation. For the masses, therefore, the work of art is an object of distraction, while for the art lover it is an object of devotion. Benjamin observes how, in criticism, distraction and contemplation are contrasted in such a way as to allow this formulation: he who gathers before a work of art sinks into it; the distracted masses, for their part, instead cause the work to sink into themselves. While listening to this music on his YouTube channel during Covid, I remember thinking how Fripp's music, in the form of soundscapes, seemed to me more like the prototype of a work of art whose reception occurred through distraction and in the collective form of its own video channel. If a painting has historically always claimed the exclusive right to be contemplated by the individual, or at most by a few individuals, Fripp's music seems to possess both the "immersive" characteristics indicated by David Toop in his "Ocean of Sound" and the environmental and sonic design factors indicated by Brian Eno and Eric Satie. Furthermore, he could count on the support of a vast audience of enthusiasts, a mass of unknown people, listening attentively and raptly.

In reality, "Music for Quiet Moments" offers several approaches to listening, both casual and in-depth. Fripp is a true master at managing small musical cells, combining and linking them in ever-changing ways, repelling the sensation of repeated listening and triggering the perception of something perhaps already known, but still unidentified and demanding a listen, even if it's in the background.

There's another aphorism by Wilde that, I believe, fits Fripp well: "A true artist is a man who believes absolutely in himself, because he is absolutely himself." Fripp has always been himself, even at the cost of being pedantic and obnoxious. He has always been able to combine an intrinsic analytical capacity for his music with careful and consistent discipline. Thought, creativity, and discipline have always been at his side. From this perspective, he seems like a martial artist, with a tireless ability to reinterpret his own stylistic traits, always revisiting the same themes with subtle variations, revealing new, dazzling perspectives.

Attention. I recommend this eight-CD box set only to Fripp enthusiasts. The purchase itself isn't really expensive, but listening to it is. It took me a whole week. You'll find yourself surrounded by a Sea of Tranquility, where Fripp's musical fluidity prevents you from establishing clear, non-self-referential reference points. It's difficult to emerge and remember a specific piece; the sensation is that of a continuous transitory motion, a musical process proceeding through calm, logical change. In this, Fripp proves himself a true master, and Wilde, with his biting humor, understood this. Wilde had never listened to Fripp, not on this level of reality, but in his genius, he had already intuited the salient features of his artistic imprint.

Italo Calvino once wrote that a classic is a work that incessantly provokes a flurry of critical discourse about itself, but continually shakes it off; he was right. Oscar Wilde has long been a classic, worth rereading, but our era has also made Fripp a classic, worth rehearsing. A classic doesn't necessarily teach us something we didn't know; sometimes we discover something we've always known (or thought we knew) but didn't realize he'd said (or played) it first (or that it's in any case connected to him in some particular way). And this too is a deeply satisfying surprise, as always the discovery of an origin, a relationship, a sense of belonging.

http://www.fennesz.com/

Mosaic | Fennesz on Bandcamp

TO:125 | Fennesz – ‘Mosaic’ | Touch

There are different types of musicians: virtuosos who elevate instrumental technique to exceptional heights; educators who are able to pass on their knowledge to new generations; and experimenters, those who venture down unexpected paths, capable of opening new musical frontiers and carrying their instrument into an unimaginable future. Christian Fennesz belongs to this latter, select category.

Fennesz, one of the very few musicians instantly recognizable by surname alone, is a pivotal figure in the landscape of contemporary experimental electronic music. Born in Vienna in 1962, he became renowned for his ability to blend organic and digital sounds, transforming the electric guitar, a traditionally rock-associated instrument, into an abstract, dense, granular, and at times intangible sound source.

I mentioned unexpected paths earlier. Fennesz is one of those rare musicians who plays his instrument, the electric guitar, not only outside traditional and genre clichés but as a pure sound generator: a material to be shaped, manipulated, deconstructed, and reconstructed through masterful use of laptops and audio processing software. With Fennesz, the electric guitar becomes a pure sonic language. Despite his roots in guitar tradition, he studied music and played in rock bands early in his career, his approach is marked by a radically innovative vision.

My first encounter with Fennesz’s processed guitar was in 1998, in the studios of Radio Base Popolare in Mestre, where I was helping some friends with their radio program White Noise, a show dedicated to frontier music, something I enjoyed immensely.

One evening, a friend (I can't remember who) brought in a CD inside a white, red, and black cardboard sleeve featuring a palm tree with a prohibition sign over it. The listening experience left us all stunned. It was PLAY, a mini-CD released by Mego containing two covers: “Paint it Black” by The Rolling Stones and “Don’t Talk (Put Your Head On My Shoulder),” which, though we didn’t know it at the time, foreshadowed Endless Summer, an album that would be hailed as a miracle a few years later.

Listening to both tracks again more than 20 years later, they haven’t lost a single ounce of the creative spark that struck us back then. They still stand as milestones of high-level artistic exploration.

In albums like Endless Summer (2001), now considered a classic of 21st-century electronic music, Fennesz managed to deconstruct the electric guitar, making it sound like a sea of digital waves where timbres dissolve into one another amidst distortion, glitches, and endless reverberations. Using software like Max/MSP and plug-ins like GRM Tools, Fennesz treated the notes from his guitar as if they were pigments on a canvas: layering, blending, and degrading them until they became unrecognizable. Yet, the human presence of the instrument never fully vanished. Even at its most abstract, the guitar remained the beating heart of the sound, a melodic ghost surfacing and disappearing among digital noise.

Endless Summer was a masterful allusion to the nostalgia of a lost, endless, unreachable pop summer. We were deep in the “glitch” era, and discovering a guitarist who could evolve its icy aesthetic using guitar-generated rather than synthetic sounds was a delightful surprise.

Fennesz isn’t a particularly prolific musician; he carefully curates each of his works with obsessive attention to detail. On December 6, 2024, five years after Agora (2019) and ten years after Bécs (2014), he once again immersed himself in the sea of sonic fragmentation, one of the hallmarks of his style. The result is a sound that is nothing short of sumptuous and intricate, blending elements of noise and ambient over which an abstract guitar drapes, barely recognizable. Mosaic can be seen as a paradigmatic example of Fennesz’s poetics.

Mosaic is a title that perfectly reflects his compositional approach. Like a mosaic, its tracks are made of fragments: tiny samples, distorted harmonies, glitches, reverb, and delay that coalesce into a cohesive, intentionally imperfect, emotionally charged, and poetic soundscape.

Mosaic displays a baroque kaleidoscope of sounds and driving guitar harmonics, infused with the enthusiasm for glitch aesthetics, sonic fragmentation, and digital noise, while retaining Fennesz’s signature taste for subtly hidden melodies within the dense weave of digital textures. At the same time, I would describe Mosaic as the album of his artistic maturity. While it reaffirms the expressive coordinates of his recent years, it also reveals a serene, non-conflicted relationship with time.

The compositions unfold slowly, without marked rhythmic structures. The sounds layer, dissolve, and chase one another in a space that seems to expand and contract like a breath. Fennesz uses time not to build traditional climaxes, but to sculpt perception: each moment is a suspension, an echo, a nuance. Listening becomes a meditative act, an immersion in a sonic flow that invites stillness and introspection.

Mosaic is also, and perhaps most importantly, a deeply emotional work. The tracks, despite their abstraction, convey precise feelings: melancholy, nostalgia, calm, solitude. This is likely due to Fennesz’s ability to fuse acoustic elements (the guitar, submerged melodic tones) with granular electronics, creating a tension between warmth and coldness, between organic and digital. In this sense, Mosaic can be read as a sonic reflection on the contemporary human condition: fragmented, complex, yet not devoid of beauty or meaning.

The result is one of the most immersive and intimate journeys he has produced to date—a striking example of complex sonic expressionism, composed of delicate chromatic layering, a kind of intricate baroque counterpoint where vivid colors alternate with sharper harmonic lines. This is because Fennesz’s music lives in a constant balance between the organic and the synthetic, between melody and noise. His compositions evoke soundscapes more than conventional musical structures. It’s music meant to be listened to attentively, that demands time, but which can also be profoundly emotional.

As I mentioned earlier, Fennesz is also a master of time and space: he knows when to let a sound expand and when to cut it short, creating dramatic tension within his compositions.

His impact goes far beyond the world of electronic music. He has helped redefine the very concept of musical sound, paving the way for a more fluid, hybrid, and experimental approach to composition. In an era where genre boundaries are increasingly blurred, Fennesz stands as a true forerunner of this dissolution.

Russian musician and composer Sofija Gubajdulina passed away on March 13, 2025, (Čistopol', October 24, 1931 – Appen, March 13, 2025).

Sofija Asgatovna Gubajdulina was one of the most influential contemporary composers, whose musical language managed to merge sonic experimentation, spirituality, and symbolism. Born on October 24, 1931, in Čistopol, in the Tatar Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic, her career developed between the rigidity of the Soviet Union and international recognition in the Western world. Gubajdulina studied composition at the Kazan Conservatory and later refined her skills at the Moscow Conservatory under Nikolaj Pejko, a student of Dmitrij Šostakovič. From the very beginning of her career, she showed a strong inclination for experimentation and a musical language that transcended the boundaries of the Soviet classical tradition. This tendency brought her into conflict with Soviet cultural authorities, who considered her too avant-garde.

Gubajdulina's musical language is characterized by an innovative use of microtonality, the combination of Western and Eastern instruments, and strong numerical and religious symbolism. Her music drew from diverse musical traditions, from Gregorian chant to Tatar folk music, while also reflecting influences from composers such as Šostakovič, Webern, and Messiaen. Another of the most distinctive aspects of her work was the use of the concept of "sacred time," in which rhythm and note duration take on a spiritual as well as structural significance. In many of her compositions, through the interplay of sound and silence, she managed to evoke a sense of transcendence and meditation.

Among her most notable works are Offertorium (1980), a violin concerto dedicated to Gidon Kremer, and In croce (1979), a duet for cello and bayan (Russian accordion) that expresses the concept of the cross both musically and symbolically. Other important works include Sieben Worte (1982) for cello, bayan, and strings, and The Canticle of the Sun (1997), based on texts by St. Francis of Assisi.

Religion and spirituality have played a crucial role in Gubajdulina's music. Deeply influenced by Christian mysticism, her music often reflects themes of struggle between light and darkness, life and death, chaos and order. This interest in the transcendental dimension sets her apart from many of her contemporaries and has helped establish her as a key figure for those seeking a fusion of musical modernity and philosophical depth.

Despite the difficulties she faced under the Soviet regime, Gubajdulina achieved numerous international accolades. Starting in the 1980s, with the decline of the Soviet Union, her work gained greater recognition in the West, where she was enthusiastically welcomed at prestigious festivals and institutions. She received several awards, including the prestigious Polar Music Prize in 2002 and the Golden Lion for Lifetime Achievement at the Venice Biennale in 2021.

The majority of Sofiya Gubajdulina’s works consist of instrumental chamber music. Such an interest in chamber genres is easily explained, given the wide range of performance possibilities they offer, even with a small number of musicians. It should also be noted that for Gubajdulina, the real sound of a composition is of utmost importance. But there is more to it. For the composer, sound represents an entire world, and her chamber music often follows principles far removed from tradition. Within her compositions, the role of the performers takes center stage. Unlike melodic, harmonic, or polyphonic elements, expressive moments and the color of music cannot be fully transcribed into a score; the composer can only provide certain conventional indications. Gubajdulina’s creations involve a mutual dependence between the composer and the performers, an aspect that is also evident in her works for classical guitar.

A good way to approach this music is through the CD Guitar Works (Complete), released in 2015 by Naxos, featuring the American guitarist David Tanenbaum.

Tanenbaum, born in 1956 in New Rochelle, New York, is recognized as one of the most eminent classical guitarists of his generation. His career has always been marked by a deep commitment to expanding the guitar repertoire and promoting contemporary music. Since his solo debut at the age of 16, Tanenbaum has shown a strong inclination toward classical guitar. He studied with masters such as Rolando Valdés-Blain, Aaron Shearer, and Michael Lorimer, further enriching his musical education with pianist Jeanne Stark-Iochmans and harpsichordist Laurette Goldberg.

Currently, he is the chair of the guitar department at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, where he received the Outstanding Professor award in 1995. His concert career has taken him across North America, Europe, Australia, the former Soviet Union, and Asia. In 1988, he became the first American guitarist invited to perform in China by the Chinese government. He has collaborated with prestigious orchestras such as the Los Angeles Philharmonic, the San Francisco Symphony, and the London Sinfonietta, under the direction of renowned conductors including Esa-Pekka Salonen, Kent Nagano, and John Adams.

One of the most distinctive aspects of Tanenbaum's career is his dedication to contemporary music. Many composers have written works specifically for him, including An eine Äolsharfe, a guitar concerto by Hans Werner Henze, and Ascención, Terry Riley's first piece for guitar. He has also premiered works by Aaron Jay Kernis, Roberto Sierra, and Lou Harrison.

His discography, which includes more than three dozen recordings, reflects his versatility and commitment to contemporary repertoire. He has recorded works by composers such as John Adams, William Bolcom, Alan Hovhaness, Steve Reich, and Michael Tippett, as well as lute music transcriptions by J.S. Bach, John Dowland, and Sylvius Leopold Weiss.

David Tanenbaum has made a significant impact on the world of classical guitar, both through his performances and his dedication to education and the promotion of contemporary music.

David Tanenbaum, the deus ex machina behind this album, explains the specific technical and sonic requirements set by the composer:

“When I was called to perform the premiere of Repentance during Sofija Gubajdulina's residency with the San Francisco Symphony in 2009, I had to come up with what the score called a "friction beater", which was "a small ball of rubber or elastic plastic ... fastened onta a springy, resilient steel string (e.g. a piano string)". That prompted quite a few trips to different stores, and a lot of puzzling over how exactly one can fasten a piano string onto a small ball. But this was Sofija Gubajdulina. She hadn't written for the guitar since she produced the two early, short pieces heard here, but in the interim she had become celebrated as the great and fearless composer that she is. The rest of the score had fantastic and unusual sounds, and it all made sense, so I figured that she must have a very specific idea here that I just didn't get. I experimented with this 'friction beater' sound, and remained baffled. I finally showed up to the first rehearsal with a variety of options, which she found curious. But then she pulled out her own version, which she had brought all the way from Germany. It made a sound unlike any of mine, and in fact unlike the many devices I had hit strings with in the past. When she heard it, she smiled.”

This CD features the performance of four pieces: Repentance (2008), Serenade (1960), Toccata (1969), and Sotto Voce (2010). Repentance (2008), for three guitars, cello, and double bass, was commissioned by the San Francisco Symphony and premiered in San Francisco on February 22, 2009. It is the latest version of a piece written a year earlier, Ravvedimento (2007), for cello and guitar quartet. In 2007, Gubajdulina also created a version called Repentance for double bass and three guitars, dedicated to double bassist Alexander Suslin. Both Ravvedimento and Repentance were dedicated to cellist Ivan Monighetti. Although Gubajdulina is deeply religious, and all three titles reference repentance, this form of repentance is secular: ultimately, it concerns the delivery of a promised piece to a cellist who has been a great interpreter of the instrument.

Serenade and Toccata were included in a 1971 edition of guitar works by Soviet composers published by Muzyka. Serenade, which was later republished by Matanya Ophee in his Editions Orphée series, was intended to be relatively easy to play and was described by the composer as "music for pleasure." It has a character of exploration and improvisation, covering the entire range of the instrument, from its lowest note to its highest. It has been performed and recorded many times. In contrast, the Toccata, recorded here for the first time, is almost unknown and more virtuosic; it has a driving momentum that rarely ceases. Like Serenade, it explores the full range of the guitar. Sotto Voce, for viola, double bass, and two guitars, was composed in 2010 and later revised in 2013.

Fundamental elements of the Russian artistic nature of Gubajdulina include an extreme seriousness in her relationship with art and a form of maximalism that demands absolute coordination from the artist, encompassing a global intellectual and emotional vision: philosophy, religion, aesthetic and poetic vision, science, and human sentiment. In her works, the immediacy of the musical sound is evident, a consequence of her ability to conceive the work in its entirety and to live its unitary character. This vision is linked to the phenomenon of a female composer of artistic proportions that are now out of scale, and to a style that becomes difficult to relate to any current or trend in contemporary music. A style that does not belong to either avant-garde, structuralism, neoclassicism, minimalism, retro style, or neo-romanticism.

Sofia Gubajdulina was one of the most significant figures in contemporary music, capable of blending technical innovation with expressive depth. Her sound research and mystical symbolism make her unique in the musical landscape, testifying to the power of music as a vehicle for spirituality and introspection. Her contribution continues to inspire new generations of musicians and composers, leaving an indelible mark on the history of 20th and 21st-century music.

Jorge Luis Borges, speaking about Dante, wrote that, according to Walter Pater, "all art constantly aspires towards the condition of music. For while in all other kinds of art it is possible to distinguish the matter from the form, and the understanding can always make this distinction, yet it is the constant effort of art to obliterate it."

One can narrate the plot of a story or a novel, but not the plot of a melody, no matter how simple it is.

Walter Pater, in his book The Renaissance: Studies in Art and Poetry (1873), also wrote:
"Again, painting, music, and poetry, with their endless power of complexity, are the special arts of the romantic and modern ages. Into these, with the utmost attenuation of detail, may be translated every delicacy of thought and feeling, incidental to a consciousness brooding with delight over itself."

And further: "If music be the ideal of all art whatever, precisely because in music it is impossible to distinguish the form from the substance or matter, the subject from the expression, then, literature, by finding its specific excellence in the absolute correspondence of the term to its import, will be but fulfilling the condition of all artistic quality in things everywhere, of all good art."

Form and content have always been two of the main obsessions of musical criticism and aesthetics. People have long debated these aspects and the very definition of music itself, often taking for granted that music is the result of a precise and carefully crafted composition by a skilled specialist: the composer.

In the twentieth century, one of these composers, the Italian Luciano Berio, provided a much broader and more semantic definition of music: "Music is everything that one listens to with the intention of listening to music." This radical statement not only allows the boundary between music and noise to shift over time as the conventions of musical interpretation evolve within a culture, but also cautiously opens the door to different forms of musical construction and aesthetics, varying across cultures at any given moment and from person to person based on individual experiences and inclinations.

This brings us directly to the attentive listening of this CD box set: Four Improvisations (Duo) 2007, a work by Anthony Braxton and Joe Morris.

Four Improvisations (Duo) 2007 | Anthony Braxton & Joe Morris | Joe Morris / Riti / Glacial Erratic

Anthony Braxton and Joe Morris are two prominent figures in the realm of experimental music and creative improvisation, each with a unique artistic language and a musical philosophy that challenges traditional conventions. Though their careers have followed distinct paths, they share a deep dedication to sonic exploration and the redefinition of music’s expressive boundaries.

Anthony Braxton is an American composer, multi-instrumentalist, and musical theorist, renowned for his radical approach to music. Born in 1945, Braxton has devoted his career to exploring the possibilities of improvisation and composition. Among his primary instruments are the saxophone, clarinet, and flute, but he is also known for his interest in less conventional instruments, such as various-sized saxophones. Braxton’s music is characterized by structural complexity and a vast range of influences, spanning from traditional jazz to contemporary classical music and electronic music. His compositions, often identified by numerical titles and graphic diagrams, defy traditional musical notation. This approach reflects his vision of sound as a universal language, capable of transcending cultural and stylistic barriers.

Joe Morris, a guitarist and double bassist born in 1955, is another key figure in experimental music. Morris is known for his unique approach to the guitar, which combines unconventional techniques with a deep melodic and rhythmic sensitivity. His music is distinguished by its fluidity and ability to create complex textures, often without relying on electronic effects, instead favoring a pure timbral quality achieved through direct contact with the instrument. Morris has developed a musical language that blends elements of jazz, blues, contemporary classical music, and global musical traditions. As an improviser, he stands out for his keen listening ability and dynamic interaction with other musicians. His musical philosophy is based on the importance of intuition and creative freedom, qualities that make him an ideal collaborator in ensemble settings.

Over the years, Morris has worked with many prominent musicians, including Anthony Braxton himself, forging deep connections between their respective aesthetics. Although Braxton and Morris come from different musical backgrounds, they share a vision of music as an open field of exploration. Both reject rigid categorizations and strive to create a sonic language that reflects the complexity of human experience. However, their aesthetics also present significant differences: while Braxton is often associated with conceptual works and intricate compositional structures, Morris emphasizes the immediacy of improvisation and the spontaneity of musical interactions.

In 2007, their collaboration resulted in Four Improvisations (Duo) 2007, an extraordinary meeting point between their artistic visions. This four-disc set captures the essence of the musical dialogue between Braxton and Morris. Recorded during a series of intense and spontaneous sessions, the work consists of four extended improvisations that explore a vast sonic territory. Each track is a fluid and dynamic conversation in which the two musicians push beyond the boundaries of their usual practices. Braxton, with his arsenal of wind instruments, crafts intricate, layered soundscapes, using extended techniques and motifs that intertwine unpredictably. Morris, on guitar, responds with a singular sensitivity, weaving intricate melodic lines and harmonic textures that both complement and contrast with Braxton’s explorations. The absence of a predetermined structure allows the two musicians to navigate freely between moments of tension and release, creating a deeply immersive listening experience.

Four Improvisations (Duo) 2007 is a quintessential example of the musical philosophy shared by Braxton and Morris. Both believe in the importance of improvisation as a means to achieve authentic and immediate communication. Yet, their approaches remain distinct: while Braxton brings a highly conceptual perspective and profound theoretical knowledge, Morris focuses on intuition and the spontaneity of sonic interactions. The improvisations on this album are marked by a constant exploration of timbral and dynamic possibilities. For instance, in some sections, Braxton uses the saxophone to create textures rich in overtones, while Morris responds with rhythmic and melodic counterpoint that amplifies the emotional impact of their dialogue. In other moments, the two seem to merge into a single voice, demonstrating a rare and profound synergy.

This work is a significant contribution to the free improvisation repertoire, showcasing how two top-tier musicians can create something truly unique through deep listening and expressive freedom. Four Improvisations (Duo) 2007 is not just an album but an experience that challenges conventions and invites the listener to reflect on the nature of music itself. Ultimately, this collaboration between Anthony Braxton and Joe Morris is a shining example of how improvisation can serve as a universal language, capable of uniting diverse artistic visions into an organic and powerful whole. Braxton and Morris represent two sides of the same coin—artists who, through their unique perspectives, encourage us to rethink the role of music in our lives and society. For anyone interested in experimental music and improvisation, Four Improvisations (Duo) 2007 is an essential listen.

January 30, 2025. The DGM Live website features this news:
"‘The Complete Recordings 1981-1984’ by Andy Summers and Robert Fripp on 3CD/1Blu-ray, alongside a new 2024 David Singleton mix of ‘I Advance Masked’ on 200-gram vinyl, will be released on March 28th, 2025."
https://www.dgmlive.com/news/andy-summers-and-robert-fripp

At the same time, this wonderful preview appears on YouTube: Skyline.

I can't contain my excitement. This might just be the purchase of 2025! Three CDs plus a Blu-ray disc. The dynamic duo has finally opened the vaults of their 1980s collaborations and assembled the complete work that had been long awaited.

As we wait for March 28, 2025, perhaps it’s worth revisiting some history behind these recordings.

It's 1982. The success of The Police has solidified and taken shape after four stunning and increasingly significant albums. Their latest, Ghost in the Machine (1981), showcases them in top form. Synchronicity, their milestone, their apex, the ultimate zenith that will forever cement them in the pantheon of rock legends, is on the horizon. The breakup, both a strategic move driven by the classic pop-star burnout and Sting’s desire for a solo career, is also imminent. And Summers? He’s at his peak, bursting with ideas, insights, and fresh perspectives.

Meanwhile, King Crimson is also at its height. They are in their third incarnation, following the triumphant Discipline (1981), which propelled them into a new evolutionary leap. Fripp, too, is in a creative whirlwind. Just look at the staggering sequence of his solo works: Exposure (1979), God Save The Queen / Under Heavy Manners (1980), Let The Power Fall (1981).

The two have known and respected each other for years. Summers began his professional career playing jazz guitar in clubs around his hometown of Bournemouth. The Majestic Hotel in Bournemouth was his last local gig, after he left for London, his spot was taken by none other than Robert Fripp, four years his junior.

In 1982, they decided to collaborate on something innovative and personal. The result? I Advance Masked, a duo album built on extensive use of synth guitars, loops, and cavernous reverbs.

"I’m expanding, I’m in an expansive state," Summers said in an interview for Walking the Police Beat by Mark Mehler (Record 10.94 VOL3 NO.12). "I’m going out and letting things grow, the balloon is filling up. I hope this is metaphorical enough for you. I’m trying myself out in situations to see how comfortable I feel, how good or bad I am."

https://andysummers.com/music/collaborations/i-advance-masked-with-robert-fripp/

For Summers, the album was perhaps a reaction to the stifling presence of The Police—or maybe just the natural response of a creative mind feeling constrained by a path he subconsciously already saw as predetermined.

(During this same period, Summers also published Throb, a book of photographic essays, explored cinema by studying acting for three years, and immersed himself in travel, literature, contemporary painting, and fine furniture.)

For Fripp, it was possibly an opportunity to play (and record) with an old friend while searching for new ideas and directions.

Their follow-up, Bewitched, was less experimental, shifting towards a more conventional format with the addition of Chris Childs and Sara Lee on bass and Paul Beavis on drums. However, it still remained outside the mainstream, featuring a surreal electro-post-Miami Vice sound. Even the videos accompanying the albums were intriguing, entertaining, and surreal, reflecting the personalities of the two guitarists, Summers, playful and extroverted, and Fripp, fearless in his noble British imperturbability.

But most importantly, the sound made all the difference. Free from their respective bands, Summers and Fripp unleashed their personal obsessions, creating a cold fusion of two distinct and contrasting sonic identities: The Police and King Crimson.

Both guitarists built upon their shared jazz background and mutual passion for technology, yielding extraordinary results. Listening to these albums today, the guitar synth tones immediately place them in the cultural frame of the early '80s, yet their freshness, both in sound and musical concepts, remains strikingly relevant, casting a long shadow over much of today’s experimental music.

There’s another noteworthy aspect. These two albums were released under A&M Records, the same label that had The Police under contract. At the time, A&M was at its financial peak, only to be sold to PolyGram in 1989, and later absorbed by Universal Music Group in 1999. These were clearly experimental records, produced by a major label primarily focused on pop music—one that likely saw little financial return from these releases. In his autobiography, Summers mischievously claims he leveraged The Police’s contractual power to persuade his label to greenlight these projects. Whether true or not, such a scenario seems utterly unthinkable today.

In the early '80s, a pop-rock artist still had the possibility of launching a parallel career—an alternative path alongside their successful band, allowing them to explore personal and unconventional musical directions. Their label, albeit reluctantly and certainly without offering massive budgets, would approve. This meant:

1. The financial returns from these alternative productions were at least sufficient to cover costs.

2. Musicians had stronger contractual power.

3. There was an audience—still not just a niche—who appreciated, purchased, and listened to these aesthetic diversions.

A situation unimaginable today.

Now, these two "old guys" are back, completing the archival work they started. The Complete Recordings 1981-1984 CD box set is available for pre-order on Burning Shed for about 40 pounds—how could anyone resist?

https://burningshed.com/store/panegyric/andy-summers_robert-fripp_the-complete-recordings_boxset

There was something extremely delicate, pure, and clear in Susan Alcorn’s slide guitar. I write was because Susan Alcorn suddenly passed away on January 31, 2025. I do not know the reasons for her passing. The High Zero Foundation, an organization dedicated to experimental music and festival production based in Baltimore, Alcorn’s home base, announced the sad news on X on the morning of January 31, sparking a flurry of photos, tributes, and comments from experimental music lovers and musicians. Personally, I became aware of her passing through posts by Ava Mendoza and Wendy Eisenberg on Instagram.

Susan Alcorn was a composer, improviser, and virtuoso of the pedal steel guitar, born in 1953 in Cleveland, Ohio. I don’t think I’m mistaken in saying that her entire career was characterized by an innovative approach that expanded the traditional boundaries of her instrument, taking it far beyond the realm of country music. Alcorn started playing guitar at the age of twelve, immersing herself in the folk, blues, and pop music of the 1960s. A chance encounter with blues musician Muddy Waters led her toward slide guitar, performing in country and western swing bands in Texas. However, her musical curiosity drove her to explore beyond conventional boundaries, studying 20th-century classical music, visionary jazz, and world music, integrating these influences into her unique style. Her approach was further enriched by the deep listening philosophy of composer Pauline Oliveros, with whom she collaborated.

Her music was described as a fusion of traditional and experimental techniques, creating a distinctive sound that defied categorization, something truly innovative and important, capable of revolutionizing the simple and traditional concept of the "pedal steel guitar," tearing it away from the typical role we were used to and placing it in an entirely new light.

I first discovered her when I bought her album Soledad, dedicated to the music of Argentine composer and accordionist Astor Piazzolla, known for his compositions that blend tango, jazz, and classical music. That album was truly disorienting: Alcorn not only arranged Piazzolla’s works in a completely innovative way, but she also drew a vast range of sounds from her instrument, transforming it into a lavish baroque organ, a kind of theremin to create noir effects reminiscent of science fiction films, a sonic probe to explore the depth and textures of the pieces, constructing ephemeral and delicate melodic architectures in service of Piazzolla’s music.

It was astonishing to hear tango reinterpreted this way: Alcorn built an ethereal and profound structure without being bound to its fundamental rhythmic structure—the ternary rhythm. The beating heart of tango seemed to vanish here, dissolving into the intense, sublimated melody played by her pedal steel guitar. It was an intelligent and refined work of deconstruction, which, with slow and elegant precision, dismantled, analyzed, and then reassembled all of Piazzolla’s passages, always maintaining the original melody intact.

Susan Alcorn has left a lasting legacy in the world of music. Her life and career remain a testament to the power of innovation and passion in musical artistry.

Morton Feldman: Well, I wrote a piece for electric guitar, and I tried to overcome the fac of an electric guitar. And so Christian came over to the house and I had him try various things, very strange things and strange registers, and when it didn't sound like an electric guitar, I wrote it down. (laughs) I mean, it seemed too obvious just to write a piece for electric guitar. He plays it very beautifully, very hesitant.

Jon Cage: Merce Cunningham told me it was marvelously soft...

Cage/Feldman Radio happenings of 1966–67

https://archives.otherminds.org/index.php/MultiSearch/Index?search=john+cage+morton+feldman

Narratives are the cornerstones of this era, marked by intense economic, social, and artistic acceleration. Without a story, without a narrative, everything seems dull, tasteless, and meaningless—just a banal, inert form. Contemporary music is no exception. Unlike classical music, which benefits from the aura of a glorious past, or rock music, with its powerful kinetic impact, contemporary music is even more reliant on narrative to reach a wider audience.

This is the case with two musical scores touched by the aura of myth: The Possibility of a New Work for Electric Guitar (1966) by Morton Feldman and Another Possibility (2004) by Christian Wolff—two emblematic examples of this shared longing for storytelling. Their story deserves a thorough exploration, complete with a near Indiana Jones-style happy ending.

It all began when Morton Feldman composed The Possibility of a New Work for Electric Guitar in early 1966, at the request of his colleague Christian Wolff.

Wolff and Feldman were two of the most important American composers of the second half of the 20th century. Less well-known is the fact that, during that time, Christian Wolff also performed as an electric guitarist. Wolff played the instrument without any formal training, employing an idiosyncratic technique, often laying the guitar flat on the floor or a table.

The Possibility of a New Work for Electric Guitar appears to have emerged from one of those serendipitous moments during a meeting between the two composers to play music together. Feldman sat at the piano, producing sounds that Wolff attempted to translate to his guitar. Feldman documented the outcome of this exploratory process, and in doing so, the work began to take shape.

On the same occasion, Feldman handed the score to Wolff in a nearly complete form, although statements by both Feldman and Wolff from that time suggest that the work was not fully finished when Wolff received it. Feldman composed this music to be performed at a concert in New York, likely without the intention of it becoming a finalized piece or being published.

At that time, the electric guitar was still a rare instrument in classical and contemporary music, let alone the possibility of a solo piece. It is therefore understandable that Feldman might not have seriously considered how a solo work for electric guitar could achieve potential distribution. Christian Wolff performed The Possibility of a New Work for Electric Guitar on three separate occasions: at the Library and Museum of the Performing Arts in New York (July 1966), at the San Francisco Music Center (July 29, 1966), and at Harvard University, Cambridge (May 14, 1967).

Wolff kept the only copy of Feldman's score in the case of his guitar, which was tragically stolen, along with the manuscript, after the third performance. A fourth performance was planned at Yale but never took place. From that moment, The Possibility of a New Work for Electric Guitar became something of a legend in the realm of contemporary music for electric guitar—a true myth that seems to have finally been resolved through the reconstruction by guitarist Seth Josel, published by Edition Peters.

According to Peter Söderberg’s insightful essay, A musical work emerges and disappears – Morton Feldman’s The Possibility of a New Work for Electric Guitar, in the late 1990s, Norwegian guitarist and musicologist Jogrim Erland visited the Paul Sacher Foundation in Basel. This institution houses the Morton Feldman Collection, which includes most of the composer’s legacy. While studying Feldman’s orchestral music, Erland came across a single sheet of a sketch, which turned out to be connected to a forgotten work for electric guitar. Erland transcribed the sketch and returned to Cologne, where he was studying with guitarist Seth Josel. A copy of the transcription was handed to Josel, who embarked on a long-term project to trace Feldman’s lost work.

The surviving sketch page contained only three types of sonic material: broken chords, isolated low tones with a descending glissando (Wolff’s electric guitar was equipped with a vibrato arm), and an ascending melodic phrase. There were also scattered annotations on dynamics—a recurring crescendo to ppp—and an indication of which sound to play first. Among the noted sounds were numerous pauses, which seem to suggest that these were conceived as independent elements with no predetermined order. None of the sounds had a specified note value, leaving them free from any rhythmic determination.

Chris Villars, curator of the excellent site The Morton Feldman Page (now closed), took an interest in Christian Wolff's mention of a radio recording made during one of the performances of Feldman's electric guitar piece. According to Wolff, the recording had been made by the San Francisco radio station WKFA, but this turned out to be a false lead: no radio station by that name ever existed.

In 2006, the search led to Charles Amirkhanian and Other Minds, the organization that preserves the archive of recordings from KPFA radio station, based in Berkeley, California. It was discovered that a tape of the performance held in San Francisco in July 1966 had been archived on a shelf, though in very poor condition.

Although Seth Josel had initially determined that the single page of the sketch was insufficient to reconstruct the original lost score, the unexpected discovery of the recording became the basis for a possible reconstruction of the work. A project with this aim was initiated, promoted by Other Minds and entrusted to Seth Josel, who, as a guitarist specializing in contemporary music and an artistic researcher, was uniquely qualified for the task.

This work occupied Josel for a significant amount of time and led to a true revival of Feldman's composition. For several years now, there have been two alternative versions resulting from Josel's reconstruction, both included in an edition published in 2015 by Edition Peters.

One of the new scores is a straightforward transcription of the preserved recording. It consists of just five minutes of music, contained on a single page of the edition. Josel did not include dynamics—likely due to the poor quality of the recording—but otherwise, the notation bears a strong resemblance to Feldman's original sketch.

The other version is a reconstructed score based on Wolff’s recording, while also taking into account the sketch page. The latter shows some details that diverge from the recording, which can be explained in various ways. Were these perhaps mistakes by Wolff? After all, Wolff had a rudimentary guitar technique, which might have influenced the recording. However, Wolff was not reading the surviving sketch during his performances but rather the now-lost score, in which Feldman may have corrected the details of the sketch.

The Edition Peters publication also includes two informative texts shedding light on The Possibility of a New Work for Electric Guitar. Chris Villars describes the historical facts surrounding the creation of the piece, its rediscovery through the sketch and recording, while Seth Josel details his process in reconstructing the score.

Seth Josel performed Feldman’s reconstructed work for the first time in March 2009 at Yale University in New Haven. Interestingly, this is the same location where, 44 years earlier, Christian Wolff was headed when his car was broken into, leading to the theft of Feldman’s work. This long-awaited performance thus brought the piece full circle.

I think it felt like hearing the past return, embodied as a digitally restored ghost recording. A moment frozen in time, now brought back with a new presence.

It sounds like a happy ending, doesn’t it? But the story doesn’t end there. According to the liner notes written by Christian Wolff for the LP The Possibility of a New Work for Electric Guitar by Feldman/Wolff/Eisenberg, produced by Other Minds in 2024, in the late 1990s, Dutch guitarist Wiek Hijmans discovered a draft of a score titled Electric Guitar Piece in Feldman’s archives at the Sacher Foundation in Basel. Only a few notations matched the original piece. There is likely some confusion here with the details provided by Peter Söderberg. In any case, it seems Feldman had lost interest in the project and never used the electric guitar again. Hijmans asked Wolff to rewrite a new piece for electric guitar based on his recollections.

The result was Another Possibility (2004), a work for electric guitar with clear allusions to Feldman’s lost piece. To some extent, Wolff created a new composition while attempting to recreate the atmosphere of Feldman’s work, based on his personal recollection of the music he had performed so many years earlier, yet infused with his own distinctive style. Another Possibility is undoubtedly a completely new piece; when compared to Feldman’s reconstructed work, the differences are far more pronounced than any similarities.

Wolff has made several significant contributions to the development of the electric guitar’s role in concert music, having composed some of the earliest works to define the instrument’s character (his Electric Spring series from the 1960s) and many other notable pieces.

This piece showcases many of the hallmarks of Wolff’s work, particularly his esoteric use of musical notation, which seems designed to unbalance musicians, encouraging them to find their own approach to interpreting Wolff’s often ambiguous performance directions. The composer deliberately writes passages that appear impossible according to conventional notions of guitar technique, forcing the musician to discover new solutions for navigating chords and melodic lines. These devices help create an atmosphere of eccentricity and an almost childlike ingenuity and playfulness in exploring the instrument’s potential.

Christian Wolff has undoubtedly had a long, intimate, and fascinating musical relationship with the guitar, especially the electric guitar. He has played guitar, bass, and even a bit of banjo, collaborating with several guitarists, including Keith Rowe and Larry Polansky. Wolff seems to possess a profound understanding of what is both possible and imaginable for the electric instrument.

His music seems to rarely (thankfully) be "idiomatic." It rarely refers to, depends on, or even acknowledges guitar techniques, or anything else musically that the performer may have learned or be familiar with. I believe the hidden beauty in this piece lies in the fact that Wolff is a composer reluctant to provide signs of expression, articulation, dynamics, and so on in his scores, leaving performers with considerable freedom and risk. Over time, it has become a coveted piece for guitarists eager to expand their artistic boundaries and eager to engage with such "open" forms.

Now, however, this circle has come full circle: on March 1, 2024, Other Minds released a beautiful LP, The Possibility of a New Work for Electric Guitar by Feldman/Wolff/Eisenberg, where you can listen, in a sort of historical loop, to Wolff's original version of The Possibility of a New Work for Electric Guitar, the same piece performed by guitarist Wendy Eisenberg, recorded at Wind Tide, Littlefield, TX, on April 17, 2022, alongside Another Possibility by Christian Wolff.

Listening to this LP is truly fascinating.

This is not just about pure music or sound. The ghosts of time have shuffled their cards in this complex story, with such semiological connotations, allowing us to listen again to a piece of music once regarded as a legend and then as a myth of contemporary music, giving it a transfigured form. This LP is not just a collectible music item but something essential in the hands of every guitarist and contemporary music enthusiast. Here, music, research, archaeology, collecting, historical archiving, and, why not?, cultural fetishism come together.

Wendy Eisenberg plays all in the name of a new possibility for the electric guitar.

Bibliography

• A musical work emerges and disappears – Morton Feldman’s The Possibility of a New Work for Electric Guitar by Peter Söderberg

• Six strings, ten fingers and the heterophonic ideal: Some thoughts on Christian Wolff’s recent guitar music (pre-publication draft) by Larry Polansky Polansky.Wolff.Six_Strings (dartmouth.edu) Polansky.Wolff.Six_Strings (dartmouth.edu)

• Insert of The Possibility of a New Work for Electric Guitar di Feldman/Wolff/Eisenberg, Other Minds Records OM 3004

• https://www.otherminds.org/recording/the-possibility-of-a-new-work-for-electric-guitar/

“Countless sound thinkers have interpreted the music; the point, as Sonic Youth have always maintened, is to change it.”

David Keenan on The Wire Issue 217 March 2002 Pag. 46

On November 22, 2024, Goodbye 20th Century turned 25, celebrating this anniversary with the release of a double LP that includes an insert with notes by Brian Turner. I believe I bought the double CD shortly after its release in 1999, and this anniversary is a great opportunity to write down some thoughts. As I reflect on what to say about it, I’m watching the video where the four Sonic Youth members "perform" Piano Piece #13 (Carpenter’s Piece), composed by George Maciunas for Nam June Paik in 1962. I must admit, it’s quite...striking.

In the video, the four Sonic Youth members take turns hammering nails into the keyboard of an old upright piano. A few minutes later, they walk away from the piano, whose keyboard now resembles a battlefield: wooden splinters everywhere, broken keys, and nails driven in at random. A perfect performance in the Fluxus style, an artistic movement of which George Maciunas was a part. I smile as I read a YouTube comment: “Better than Nicki Minaj,” followed by other reactions, some in agreement, others offering fierce and sarcastic condemnation. The video, uploaded in May 2006, has since garnered over 58,000 views and almost 400 likes.

Sonic Youth,what a fantastic name. It’s a perfect name, and the four of them are exactly the kind of band you’d imagine for a name like that; they make precisely the music you’d expect from a group with such a name, turning their records into true sonic meditations.

Listening to the album, the performance becomes even more unsettling, with the piano groaning under the blows, the sounds of wood and ivory splintering under the hammers, and the nails attacking and destroying the poor piano. I believe Goodbye 20th Century received a similar kind of audience reaction when it was released in 1999. It was a real gamble, a truly courageous project that could have destroyed them—alienating their alternative and indie rock fans and exposing them to accusations of amateurism from proponents of "serious" music.

There were certainly negative reviews ("I remember a caption in a review that just said, 'Goodbye 20th Century, Goodbye Talent.' We pinned it up on the wall of the studio." Jim O'Rourke said, The Wire Issue 213, November 2001, p. 140). However, this album strengthened Sonic Youth's image and earned them the respect of those involved in contemporary art, leading to numerous concert invitations from prestigious art galleries. (Psychic Confusion: La storia dei Sonic Youth by Steve Chick, p. 313)

Credited to Gordon, Moore, Ranaldo, and Shelley, along with numerous guests (William Winant, Jim O'Rourke, Takehisa Kosugi, Christian Wolff, Christian Marclay, Coco Hayley Gordon Moore, Wharton Tiers), this monumental double LP/double CD is a collection of compositions that retraces the 20th century, paying homage to it through free interpretations of contemporary music. Some of the century’s greatest composers were involved, figures like John Cage, George Maciunas, Pauline Oliveros, Steve Reich, Cornelius Cardew, and Christian Wolff. Particularly extraordinary in Goodbye 20th Century is the presence of some of these composers themselves, with Oliveros even composing a piece for the occasion, titled Six for New Time – For Sonic Youth.

The selection of tracks was curated by William Winant ( http://williamwinant.com/ ), a highly regarded percussionist in the field of contemporary music, who had worked extensively with John Cage and collaborated with a range of artists from Frank Zappa to Boulez, the Kronos Quartet to John Zorn. Winant, who is also a childhood friend of Kim Gordon (Girl in a Band, p. 241-242), chose pieces that could be performed by a small ensemble and involved all the musicians participating:

"I knew I’d have to find things that would work with these specific people and their instruments, either as a solo, quartet, quintet, or sextet. I chose graphic scores with open instrumentation and varying degrees of indeterminacy written into them."
—William Winant, Bananafish #13

On one hand, Goodbye 20th Century was a natural continuation of the path started with the albums released through Sonic Youth Records, recorded in their Echo Canyon studio, which created a fitting context for such a project. On the other hand, working alongside so-called avant-garde musicians had always been part of Sonic Youth's normal activity. As Thurston Moore explained in an interview with Daniela Cascella, the choice of composers reflects their desire to "address the liberation of the musician":

"This is an idea that punks believed they had invented. The fact that avant-garde music has always been a major step forward, an expansion, as taught in academies worldwide since the 1950s, is something we need to share with punks everywhere. In reality, that kind of music manages to mix the hippie, the punk, and the academic identity."
(Blow Up, June 2000, “Sonic Youth: La Tradizione del Nuovo,” pp. 70-72)

Despite the particular nature of the music recorded on this double CD, Goodbye 20th Century remains a typically "Sonic Youth" album. It’s not essential for fans of Daydream Nation or Goo, but it’s undoubtedly fascinating for those engaged with Neu Musik. Once the initial perplexity subsides (a rock band interpreting Cage?), Goodbye 20th Century reveals itself as a free artistic digression whose strong sequencing and high-energy music possess an intrinsic aesthetic value. More importantly, it’s a vital testament to how underground rock and academic avant-garde have moved along parallel paths—although few on either side have dared to acknowledge it. The band of Lee Ranaldo, Kim Gordon, Thurston Moore, and Steve Shelley not only had the courage to admit it but also the will to declare that the 20th century is over. Just as with rock, it’s time for change. Perhaps it’s time to bid farewell to utopian experiments and embrace a new, invigorating paradigm: border zones must resume communicating and intersecting, finding balance and a place in this global society that no one seems able to manage. Happy anniversary Goodbye 20th Century.

Recorded live in Oslo during the Nasjonal Jazzscene in 2017, Catching Fire is the first gem of 2025 for my music collection. Produced by Norwegian independent label Rune Grammofon, this album showcases the collaboration between Norwegian jazz-prog trio Elephant9 and legendary guitarist Terje Rypdal. The result is a captivating and hypnotic sonic experience.

Elephant9
Founded in 2006, Elephant9 is a Norwegian progressive-psychedelic jazz-rock band renowned for its energetic and experimental style, blending elements of jazz, psychedelic rock, and 70s prog. This high-intensity power trio features keyboardist Ståle Storløkken, celebrated for his work with groups like Supersilent; drummer Torstein Lofthus, known for his versatility and precision; and bassist Nikolai Hængsle, whose powerful grooves enrich the band’s dynamic sound.

Terje Rypdal
What more can be said about a legend?

“Rypdal è un innovatore aperto all'esplorazione e lo dimostra fin dagli inizi. Dopo le esperienze rock di Bleack House, grazie all'incontro con George Russell si dedica sempre più alla musica contemporanea e, attraverso lo studio con Finn Mortensen, alla composizione: è attraverso questo percorso che arriva a pubblicare Q.E.D., tra i momenti più alti della sua carriera. Rypdal è però anche l'ispiratore di quel suono che a metà anni Ottanta il giovane Sven Persson andava cercando, e che trova una sua forma chiara e inconfondibile con il trio Chaser.”

"Rypdal is an explorer and innovator, as evident from his earliest works. After his rock beginnings with Bleak House and through his encounter with George Russell, he delved into contemporary music and composition under Finn Mortensen’s mentorship. This journey culminated in works like Q.E.D., a career high point. Rypdal also inspired the distinct sound that, by the mid-1980s, young Sven Persson sought and refined with the trio Chaser."

—Luca Vitali, Il Suono del Nord, Auditorium, 2081, pp. 258-259

A guitarist, composer, and musician of unparalleled influence in Scandinavian and international jazz, Rypdal’s unique style combines elements of jazz, rock, contemporary classical, and ambient music. Initially inspired by 60s rock, including Jimi Hendrix, Rypdal developed an innovative approach to the electric guitar, transforming it into an instrument capable of evoking vast, hypnotic soundscapes, especially in his ECM recordings, which helped define that label’s signature sound. His classical training also led to orchestral compositions and collaborations with major ensembles worldwide.

Catching Fire

Released in 2024, Catching Fire is a journey through adventurous soundscapes, an explosive fusion of jazz, progressive rock, and psychedelia. As a longtime admirer of Rypdal’s guitar work, I’ve always wanted to own all his albums. However, his ECM records sometimes left me ambivalent due to their excessive reverb and a certain overindulgence, which, while evoking expansive Nordic vistas, occasionally felt overly polished.

This album, however, integrates Rypdal’s guitar seamlessly into the powerful and dynamic sound of the Elephant9 power trio. His aggressive passages and sharply distorted, rock-infused solos are precisely what the ECM albums lacked.

The album’s tracks unfold with the unpredictability of jazz improvisation, coupled with the tension of psychedelic rock and the structure of progressive music. Pieces like I Cover the Mountain Top and Dodovoodoo stand out for their explosive energy, with Lofthus’ hammering drums and Hængsle’s solid, precise bass lines providing a robust foundation for Storløkken’s Hammond flights and Rypdal’s guitar inserts. Rypdal’s role here is that of a collaborator who knows how to shine without overshadowing his bandmates.

There’s a sense of ongoing dialogue between the musicians, with every note acting as a response or provocation to another. The music channels the spirit of Miles Runs the Voodoo Down, exuding a wild alchemy and prodigious interplay reminiscent of the early electric jazz years played by Davis's groups. It also brings me to mind the 6-CD box set released in 2010 by Jazzland Recordings under Paolo Vinaccia’s name, where Rypdal unleashed his most rock-infused and untamed creativity.

A must-have for fans of experimental jazz and avant-garde rock. We need more and more.

The Complexity of Distance (2020) for solo electric guitar Composed by James Romig Performed by Gaku Yamada (Electric Guitar) 2024.12.19

Gaku Yamada Solo Guitar Series

James Romig "Trilogy" for Guitar at KM Art Hall (Tokyo)

Henry Kaiser and Lukas Ligeti are two prominent figures in the contemporary music scene, each distinguished by an innovative approach and a broad range of collaborations spanning diverse genres and musical traditions.

Henry Kaiser

Henry Kaiser is an American guitarist, composer, and record producer known for his unique style and continuous exploration of the tonal and technical possibilities of the guitar. Born on September 19, 1952, in Oakland, California, Kaiser is considered one of the pioneers of avant-garde, experimental, and improvised music. His career is characterized by extraordinary versatility, ranging from electronic music to jazz, rock, and world music.

He has collaborated with renowned artists such as Fred Frith, David Lindley, and Wadada Leo Smith, and his work also includes significant contributions to film music, including soundtracks for documentaries by director Werner Herzog. Kaiser has a deep interest in traditional music from around the world, as demonstrated by his projects focused on Malagasy music and other African traditions.

Lukas Ligeti

Lukas Ligeti, born on June 13, 1965, in Vienna, Austria, is an innovative composer and percussionist known for his ability to blend Western and non-Western musical traditions. The son of the renowned composer György Ligeti, Lukas has developed a personal musical language reflecting his curiosity about global musical cultures and technology.

Ligeti is a virtuoso percussionist and an innovator in the use of electronic instruments and music software. He is particularly noted for his rhythmic explorations and compositions that integrate complex polyrhythms and influences from Africa, India, and electronic music. He has collaborated with international artists and created works for orchestra, chamber ensembles, and solo performances.

Collaborations and Shared Vision

Although Kaiser and Ligeti have pursued distinct career paths, they share a common vision of music as a means of exploration and intercultural dialogue. Both are drawn to the idea of transcending stylistic boundaries, creating a sonic language that unites tradition and innovation.

Their works exemplify how music can serve as a bridge between cultures, eras, and disciplines, offering unique and profound artistic experiences.

There is something profoundly satisfying about reorganizing your record collection. In an era where music is often reduced to a digital file or an impersonal playlist where the song titles are sometimes unknown, vinyl records and CDs offer not only a hauntological, tangible connection to the past but also a way to celebrate art in its physical form. They invite us to listen and reassess past gems with fresh ears, bridging nostalgia and forward-looking perspectives.

During this enjoyable ritual, forgotten albums inevitably resurface, those left unplayed for years, suddenly demanding attention. Playing one of these records is like meeting an old friend: the music fills the room, evoking emotions tied to specific moments in life, while also offering an opportunity to reflect on the evolution of personal taste and passions. It’s a celebration of music’s materiality in an increasingly digital and ephemeral world and a chance to reevaluate opinions.

This time, I stumbled upon Psychocandy, the debut album by The Jesus and Mary Chain, a masterpiece that redefined the musical landscape of the 1980s by merging pop elements with a noisy, abrasive, and oppressive aesthetic. Released in November 1985, this record became a cornerstone for the shoegaze and noise pop movements, influencing countless artists and leaving an indelible mark on the history of alternative rock.

The Jesus and Mary Chain were among the most influential and innovative bands in alternative rock history. Formed in 1983 in East Kilbride, Scotland, by brothers Jim and William Reid, the band redefined rock music’s boundaries with their unique blend of pop melodies and abrasive noise. Their early career was marked by short, intensely noisy concerts that often ended in chaos and controversy. This rebellious attitude built their myth and attracted the British music scene’s attention.

In 1985, they released their debut album, Psychocandy, considered one of the most revolutionary works of the 1980s. The album combines refined pop melodies, inspired by 1960s groups like The Beach Boys and The Ronettes, with walls of feedback and distortion, creating a sonic contrast that defined their aesthetic.

The Reid brothers, the creative minds behind The Jesus and Mary Chain, envisioned Psychocandy as a sonic experiment, blending sweet, catchy melodies with production steeped in distortion, feedback, and an incessant wall of noise. This dichotomy between sweetness and chaos is the album's beating heart, simultaneously hypnotic, provocative, and almost suffocating.

Tracks like "Just Like Honey" and "You Trip Me Up" perfectly embody this aesthetic. "Just Like Honey," the album's opener, is a slow, melancholic ballad made iconic by its drum riff inspired by The Ronettes' "Be My Baby" and Jim Reid’s languid vocals. On the other hand, "Never Understand" and "In a Hole" showcase the band’s wilder, noisier side, with excessive feedback and chaotic structures reflecting a punk attitude and emotional heaviness. The electric guitars, with their raw, distorted tones, are central to shaping the album's sonic identity, crafting both the sweetest melodies and explosive noise bursts.

Another crucial element of Psychocandy is its production, overseen by the Reid brothers and John Loder. The decision to overload the tracks with layers of distortion and reverb created a distinctive sound often described as hidden beauty within chaos. This approach paved the way for bands like My Bloody Valentine and Slowdive, who would further develop the shoegaze genre.

Moreover, Psychocandy's legacy lies in how it reshaped perceptions of pop and rock music. It demonstrated that accessible, catchy songs could break traditional production and arrangement conventions. This balance between accessibility and experimentation made the album a timeless classic, redefining the image and attitude of alternative rock, making the band a symbol of a transforming era and music scene. Enigmatic, rebellious, and deliberately detached from commercial industry logic.

The interplay of heavy distortion and melody represents one of contemporary music’s most fascinating oxymorons. It is a sonic language that merges raw energy and chaos with grace and intimacy, creating a unique and captivating auditory experience. This style evokes contrasting emotions, from rage to melancholy. Distortion itself emerges from exceeding limits, an exaggerated amplification that transforms the original sound into something dense, complex, and intentionally imperfect. When this primal force is channeled into melodic structures, it creates an irresistible emotional tension.

Heavy, melodic distortion also serves as a means of personal expression. Musicians use it to translate complex and often contradictory states of mind. The melody’s linearity and accessibility connect with listeners, while distortion adds vulnerability and power. This dynamic shines in tracks that alternate between quiet moments and explosive ones, creating a tension that keeps the listener suspended between calm and chaos.

In a sense, heavy melodic distortion reflects the human condition, an intertwining of beauty and turbulence, order and disorder. Every distorted chord dissolving into a dreamy melody symbolizes struggle and reconciliation, a way to find harmony in chaos.

This is why Psychocandy by The Jesus and Mary Chain is more than just an album: it is a sonic manifesto celebrating the fusion of opposites, pop and noise, sweetness and chaos. Its sonic and emotional intensity continues to inspire and captivate, reminding us of music’s power to defy expectations and redefine the boundaries of art.

The musical aesthetics of artists like Mark Wingfield, Markus Reuter, Tim Motzer, Nguyên Lê, and Ehsan Sadigh represent a modern embodiment of the fusion between tradition, innovation, and sonic experimentation. These musicians, often associated with labels such as MoonJune Records, share an artistic vision that transcends genre boundaries, delving into a quest for emotional depth, technical complexity, and timbral exploration.

These five musicians are not islands; they are bridges. Their art is built on dialogue, encounters, and exchanges. When they collaborate, they do not merely layer their voices; they create a shared language, a lingua franca that needs no words. Imagine a room without walls, where every note is an open window onto an expanding universe. Here, there are no boundaries, only trajectories meeting, brushing past, and blending to generate new sonic geometries. This is the space where Mark Wingfield, Markus Reuter, Tim Motzer, Nguyên Lê, and Ehsan Sadigh move: explorers of landscapes that do not yet exist but take form the moment their music calls them into being.

Though stylistically distinct, their work converges on several shared aesthetic themes:

1. Timbral and Sonic Exploration

All these artists are known for their ability to create unique soundscapes. Utilizing modern technologies such as digital effects, loop stations, and synthesizers, they weave intricate and dynamic sonic textures.

• Mark Wingfield uses the electric guitar in an almost orchestral manner, blending natural harmonics and feedback manipulation to forge an expressive language that transcends the instrument’s traditional boundaries.

• Markus Reuter, through his innovative use of the Touch Guitar, explores a sonic world combining technical precision with evocative atmospheres, often evoking cosmic depth by intertwining minimalism and structural complexity.

• Tim Motzer excels in improvisation and creative looping, producing layered sonic tapestries that evoke dreamlike landscapes.

2. Improvisation and Intuition

Improvisation lies at the heart of these musicians’ aesthetics. It is not just about spontaneity but also about interaction with other musicians and the sonic environment.

• Nguyên Lê integrates influences from traditional Vietnamese music with jazz and rock in his guitar playing, creating a language that is both intimate and global.

• Ehsan Sadigh, noted for his melodic sensitivity and exploration of microtonal scales, uses improvisation to express complex emotions and profound atmospheres.

3. Global Connection and Multiculturalism

These artists are deeply influenced by a global perspective on music. They incorporate elements of diverse cultural traditions, blending them with contemporary techniques.

• Nguyên Lê epitomizes this global aesthetic, employing traditional Vietnamese instruments and modern techniques to create music that bridges East and West.

• Ehsan Sadigh, from Iran, integrates the legacy of Persian music into his compositions, reinterpreting it through modern lenses.

4. Technological Innovation

A defining trait is their creative use of technology. These musicians do not merely play traditional instruments but transform them, expanding their expressive boundaries.

• Markus Reuter designed his Touch Guitar, redefining the role of the guitar in a contemporary context.

• Tim Motzer employs pedals, processors, and computers to manipulate sound in real-time, crafting sonic atmospheres oscillating between the concrete and abstract.

5. Emotional and Philosophical Depth

At the core of their aesthetics lies intense emotional depth and philosophical inquiry. Their compositions often reflect a worldview that transcends entertainment, inviting the listener into a meditative and transformative experience.

• Mark Wingfield, with his expressive phrasing and attention to dynamic detail, conveys emotions ranging from contemplative to dramatic.

• Ehsan Sadigh employs microtonality to evoke a sense of nostalgia and mystery, drawing on the rich heritage of Eastern music.

6. Collaboration and Interaction

These artists excel in collaboration, creating music born from deep connections among musicians. Albums and live performances often reflect this dynamic, with each contribution merging into a harmonious dialogue.

The musical aesthetics of Mark Wingfield, Markus Reuter, Tim Motzer, Nguyên Lê, and Ehsan Sadigh offer a journey through complexity, beauty, and diversity. Their music challenges conventional limits, embracing a broad spectrum of cultural and technological influences. With an approach combining technical virtuosity, intuition, and emotional sensitivity, these artists deliver a sonic experience as intellectual as it is emotional, representing the forefront of contemporary global music. Listening to them is like reading a book in an unknown language, where each page illuminates new meanings with the simple act of turning it. A music that doesn’t seek to explain but to reveal. And in that revelation, to lose oneself.

Moonjune - Moonjune Records Website

MoonJune Records is one of the most significant independent labels for lovers of progressive music, jazz fusion, and experimental sounds. Founded in 2001 by Leonardo Pavkovic, the record label has established itself as a platform that champions visionary and innovative artists from around the world. This strictly independent label is a window onto a constantly shifting landscape where jazz, progressive rock, and experimentation intertwine like threads in an endless tapestry of musical exploration. It crosses genres, cultural boundaries, and styles, offering a unique perspective on contemporary music.

MoonJune is a place that doesn’t appear on maps, where melodies defy market rules, and artists chart courses that ignore conventional boundaries. This non-place is MoonJune Records—a beacon in the night for those seeking music that not only sounds but explores, questions, and transforms.

The label’s name was inspired by the song "Moon in June" by Soft Machine, a tribute to the progressive rock of the 1970s, a genre that profoundly influenced the musical approach of its founder. It’s not just a song but a manifesto of creative freedom. The name reminds us of MoonJune Records' mission: to explore the intersections of jazz, rock, world music, and avant-garde, providing a space for musicians who often don’t fit into traditional commercial circuits.

The fortunate result of this cultural approach is a rich musical catalog that includes internationally renowned artists and emerging talents, representing a variety of cultures and styles. Browsing through it feels like encountering a map—not of known lands but an atlas of possibilities.

Prominent names include Allan Holdsworth, regarded as one of the greatest jazz fusion guitarists, and Soft Machine, the iconic progressive rock band. The label has also embraced musicians from countries like Indonesia, Serbia, Argentina, and many others, demonstrating a steadfast commitment to cultural diversity.

A standout example is the collaboration with Indonesian musicians like Dewa Budjana, known for his ability to blend traditional melodies with modern jazz and rock. Similarly, experimental Italian vocalist Boris Savoldelli has found in MoonJune Records an ideal platform to express his creativity.

A defining characteristic of MoonJune's musicians is their emphasis on improvisation. Following in the footsteps of jazz greats, the label’s artists treat each performance as an opportunity to create something unique and unrepeatable. This approach is evident in works by artists such as The Wrong Object and Dewa Budjana, where inspired solos and dynamic interactions among band members generate moments of pure creative magic.

MoonJune Records' aesthetic celebrates musical virtuosity but never uses it as an end in itself. Instead, it serves as a means to explore new expressive horizons. Leonardo Pavkovic has succeeded in bringing together artists renowned for their technical skill—including guitarists, keyboardists, and drummers—to create works that merge technical mastery with emotional sensitivity. Complexity is never sterile but always serves a broader musical vision.

MoonJune Records stands out not only for its musical quality but also for its innovative approach to distribution and promotion. In an era dominated by streaming and digital platforms, the label has managed to adapt without losing its identity. Pavkovic’s strategy is based on a lean and collaborative production model, allowing artists to maintain significant control over their works. Furthermore, MoonJune Records has built a global community of enthusiasts, using social media and digital platforms to connect directly with the audience. This approach has allowed the label to break through traditional barriers in the music industry, reaching listeners in every corner of the world.

The impact of MoonJune Records extends beyond music. The label has become a symbol of artistic and creative resistance in an industry often dominated by commercial logic. By promoting artists who challenge norms and celebrate cultural uniqueness, MoonJune Records helps keep musical diversity alive and inspires new generations of musicians. In an age where music seems to be dematerializing in digital streams, MoonJune Records remains grounded in one idea: music as creation, not as consumption.

On a sonic level, MoonJune Records’ releases are characterized by a production quality that emphasizes clarity and dimensionality of sound. This allows listeners to capture every nuance of the complex musical textures. This approach reflects the label's attention to detail and its desire to offer an immersive, almost tactile experience to the listener.

Many of MoonJune’s albums are conceived as conceptual works, where the tracks intertwine to tell a story or explore a specific theme. This narrative dimension is another distinctive element of the label's aesthetic, embracing the tradition of progressive rock and jazz concepts.

In an increasingly standardized musical landscape, MoonJune Records represents an authentic and independent voice. Through its commitment to artistic excellence and its ability to connect different cultures, the label continues to demonstrate that music is a universal language, capable of uniting people beyond all boundaries.