The album opens to the croaks of a pond full of frogs and what sounds like an approaching storm. Vocals interject, introducing the album, before synthesizers bubble upwards and into the mix. I’m buoyed by the warm, distorted tone currents. They carry me out of the pond down a nearby creek; I also feel supported, nay, encouraged by the insistent rhythms to pursue my goals. The surrounding percussion inspires my journey, as I lightly float upon ribbon-like tones that ripple and shimmer; always nearly breaking the water’s surface tension, but never quite doing so.
The frequent vocalizations are passionate, reverberating against the walls of a forgotten temple, surely built by aliens many cycles ago. The repetitive electronics weave forward; fiddly and intricate: an archaeologist who’s lost in a maze, but blissfully unaware that he is, because he can’t help but study the faded hieroglyphics that decorate the surrounding labyrinth walls.
A caretaker of a multicultural council of aging, but in this center the patients have interloped, and bewitched the staff to let them do as they please. The staff tiredly drag themselves around with their shoulders stooped, picking up after these relics’ frequent, strange dance events.
If they could dance, they would, but they’ve spent the past… How long has it been? A day? A week? Years? Meanwhile, Jon Hassell’s music provides that accompaniment, perhaps the inspiration, to the deterioration of the caretaker’s mind.