Status Updates From It Gets Me Home, This Curvi...

‘Every string has a potential tale: jagged / leafy, rueful / resilient. For first-time listeners, it may sound like two guitarists playing—in judicious harmony—modest instrument made glancingly symphonic—Nothing on Pretzel Logic is overstressed / overplayed—The drums—a rising heartbeat squall of saxophones—thick membrane of sound flows forth and hovers in the room—incredibly plush—you begin to see—the askew texture—’

‘—after his blurry end—a fond graffito rose—sprouted all over—Even if you’ve loved this music for half a lifetime, you can find the algebraic lingo of jazz theory about as clarifying as a book of logarithms baked in mud—You develop certain muscles at the expense of others—‘Love perfection because it is the threshold / But deny it once known, once dead forget it.’—'In the Wee Small Hours' flicker—sleep, dream, waking’

'At the end of a numb day—I put on Miles Davis’s Kind of Blue in an attempt to really hear it again—to catch the original lure through all the intervening time-fuzz—Unearthly sonic signatures woven from everyday air; flurries of notes like Rimbaud’s million golden birds set free: no one else could do this one thing he did, exactly the way he did it—So why does this—astringent music touch so many of us, still?'