Splitting their sophomore collab into disorientated side-long contemplations of "space" and "time", Chicago cohorts Natural Information Society and Bitchin' Bajas puzzle out the divine symmetry between spiritual jazz and polychromatic new age gear.
It's been a good 10 years since Josh Abrahams' "ecstatic minimalist" ensemble Natural Information Society linked hands with Cooper Crain's Bitchin' Bajas, who were last spotted giving Sun Ra's catalog the Wendy Carlos treatment on 'Switched On Ra'. Their debut 'Autoimaginary' was impressive not because it hit an exact mid-point between the bands' respective sounds, but because they figured out what might work best, pulsing thru kosmische, minimalist repetitions that just lapped the edges of outerzone jazz. They've refined their cooperation here, choosing to separate their dronier, more new age compositions on the first ("space") side, and the deliberate, transcendent free jazz jams on the flip ("time", natch).
The extended title track is up first, and it's flawlessly blurry, losing Abrahams' signature guimbri plucks in crystalline synth and woodwind gesticulations that freeze and liquify until Mikel Patrick Avery's soft focus rhythms draw all the sounds together in the final act. And although 'Nothing Does Not Show' is comparatively brief, it offers a more structured counterpart, scratching at the same theme but fading Abrahams' lithe double bass and Lisa Alvarado's harmonium quivers into the foreground alongside Crain's tremolo organ and Rob Frye's swirling flutes.
And although the balance is markedly different on Side B's 'Always 9 Seconds Away', it's equally as crushing. Dilating the tempo to a crawling, Bohren-like 40bpm, Avery just glances the drum heads, opening up time (and space, tbh) for Frye and bass clarinetist Jason Stein to haunt the emptiness with a permed woodwind duet. The sound's topped off with eerily ornate organ and synth vamps, and the result is like a half-speed Don Cherry, dazed from stretched tape and temporal disintegration. It's so good that the jammy, full-throttle finale 'Clock no Clock' kinda pales in comparison, but that's a minor grievance; if you're gonna study time, it should probably go both ways, right?
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Splitting their sophomore collab into disorientated side-long contemplations of "space" and "time", Chicago cohorts Natural Information Society and Bitchin' Bajas puzzle out the divine symmetry between spiritual jazz and polychromatic new age gear.
It's been a good 10 years since Josh Abrahams' "ecstatic minimalist" ensemble Natural Information Society linked hands with Cooper Crain's Bitchin' Bajas, who were last spotted giving Sun Ra's catalog the Wendy Carlos treatment on 'Switched On Ra'. Their debut 'Autoimaginary' was impressive not because it hit an exact mid-point between the bands' respective sounds, but because they figured out what might work best, pulsing thru kosmische, minimalist repetitions that just lapped the edges of outerzone jazz. They've refined their cooperation here, choosing to separate their dronier, more new age compositions on the first ("space") side, and the deliberate, transcendent free jazz jams on the flip ("time", natch).
The extended title track is up first, and it's flawlessly blurry, losing Abrahams' signature guimbri plucks in crystalline synth and woodwind gesticulations that freeze and liquify until Mikel Patrick Avery's soft focus rhythms draw all the sounds together in the final act. And although 'Nothing Does Not Show' is comparatively brief, it offers a more structured counterpart, scratching at the same theme but fading Abrahams' lithe double bass and Lisa Alvarado's harmonium quivers into the foreground alongside Crain's tremolo organ and Rob Frye's swirling flutes.
And although the balance is markedly different on Side B's 'Always 9 Seconds Away', it's equally as crushing. Dilating the tempo to a crawling, Bohren-like 40bpm, Avery just glances the drum heads, opening up time (and space, tbh) for Frye and bass clarinetist Jason Stein to haunt the emptiness with a permed woodwind duet. The sound's topped off with eerily ornate organ and synth vamps, and the result is like a half-speed Don Cherry, dazed from stretched tape and temporal disintegration. It's so good that the jammy, full-throttle finale 'Clock no Clock' kinda pales in comparison, but that's a minor grievance; if you're gonna study time, it should probably go both ways, right?
Splitting their sophomore collab into disorientated side-long contemplations of "space" and "time", Chicago cohorts Natural Information Society and Bitchin' Bajas puzzle out the divine symmetry between spiritual jazz and polychromatic new age gear.
It's been a good 10 years since Josh Abrahams' "ecstatic minimalist" ensemble Natural Information Society linked hands with Cooper Crain's Bitchin' Bajas, who were last spotted giving Sun Ra's catalog the Wendy Carlos treatment on 'Switched On Ra'. Their debut 'Autoimaginary' was impressive not because it hit an exact mid-point between the bands' respective sounds, but because they figured out what might work best, pulsing thru kosmische, minimalist repetitions that just lapped the edges of outerzone jazz. They've refined their cooperation here, choosing to separate their dronier, more new age compositions on the first ("space") side, and the deliberate, transcendent free jazz jams on the flip ("time", natch).
The extended title track is up first, and it's flawlessly blurry, losing Abrahams' signature guimbri plucks in crystalline synth and woodwind gesticulations that freeze and liquify until Mikel Patrick Avery's soft focus rhythms draw all the sounds together in the final act. And although 'Nothing Does Not Show' is comparatively brief, it offers a more structured counterpart, scratching at the same theme but fading Abrahams' lithe double bass and Lisa Alvarado's harmonium quivers into the foreground alongside Crain's tremolo organ and Rob Frye's swirling flutes.
And although the balance is markedly different on Side B's 'Always 9 Seconds Away', it's equally as crushing. Dilating the tempo to a crawling, Bohren-like 40bpm, Avery just glances the drum heads, opening up time (and space, tbh) for Frye and bass clarinetist Jason Stein to haunt the emptiness with a permed woodwind duet. The sound's topped off with eerily ornate organ and synth vamps, and the result is like a half-speed Don Cherry, dazed from stretched tape and temporal disintegration. It's so good that the jammy, full-throttle finale 'Clock no Clock' kinda pales in comparison, but that's a minor grievance; if you're gonna study time, it should probably go both ways, right?
Splitting their sophomore collab into disorientated side-long contemplations of "space" and "time", Chicago cohorts Natural Information Society and Bitchin' Bajas puzzle out the divine symmetry between spiritual jazz and polychromatic new age gear.
It's been a good 10 years since Josh Abrahams' "ecstatic minimalist" ensemble Natural Information Society linked hands with Cooper Crain's Bitchin' Bajas, who were last spotted giving Sun Ra's catalog the Wendy Carlos treatment on 'Switched On Ra'. Their debut 'Autoimaginary' was impressive not because it hit an exact mid-point between the bands' respective sounds, but because they figured out what might work best, pulsing thru kosmische, minimalist repetitions that just lapped the edges of outerzone jazz. They've refined their cooperation here, choosing to separate their dronier, more new age compositions on the first ("space") side, and the deliberate, transcendent free jazz jams on the flip ("time", natch).
The extended title track is up first, and it's flawlessly blurry, losing Abrahams' signature guimbri plucks in crystalline synth and woodwind gesticulations that freeze and liquify until Mikel Patrick Avery's soft focus rhythms draw all the sounds together in the final act. And although 'Nothing Does Not Show' is comparatively brief, it offers a more structured counterpart, scratching at the same theme but fading Abrahams' lithe double bass and Lisa Alvarado's harmonium quivers into the foreground alongside Crain's tremolo organ and Rob Frye's swirling flutes.
And although the balance is markedly different on Side B's 'Always 9 Seconds Away', it's equally as crushing. Dilating the tempo to a crawling, Bohren-like 40bpm, Avery just glances the drum heads, opening up time (and space, tbh) for Frye and bass clarinetist Jason Stein to haunt the emptiness with a permed woodwind duet. The sound's topped off with eerily ornate organ and synth vamps, and the result is like a half-speed Don Cherry, dazed from stretched tape and temporal disintegration. It's so good that the jammy, full-throttle finale 'Clock no Clock' kinda pales in comparison, but that's a minor grievance; if you're gonna study time, it should probably go both ways, right?
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Splitting their sophomore collab into disorientated side-long contemplations of "space" and "time", Chicago cohorts Natural Information Society and Bitchin' Bajas puzzle out the divine symmetry between spiritual jazz and polychromatic new age gear.
It's been a good 10 years since Josh Abrahams' "ecstatic minimalist" ensemble Natural Information Society linked hands with Cooper Crain's Bitchin' Bajas, who were last spotted giving Sun Ra's catalog the Wendy Carlos treatment on 'Switched On Ra'. Their debut 'Autoimaginary' was impressive not because it hit an exact mid-point between the bands' respective sounds, but because they figured out what might work best, pulsing thru kosmische, minimalist repetitions that just lapped the edges of outerzone jazz. They've refined their cooperation here, choosing to separate their dronier, more new age compositions on the first ("space") side, and the deliberate, transcendent free jazz jams on the flip ("time", natch).
The extended title track is up first, and it's flawlessly blurry, losing Abrahams' signature guimbri plucks in crystalline synth and woodwind gesticulations that freeze and liquify until Mikel Patrick Avery's soft focus rhythms draw all the sounds together in the final act. And although 'Nothing Does Not Show' is comparatively brief, it offers a more structured counterpart, scratching at the same theme but fading Abrahams' lithe double bass and Lisa Alvarado's harmonium quivers into the foreground alongside Crain's tremolo organ and Rob Frye's swirling flutes.
And although the balance is markedly different on Side B's 'Always 9 Seconds Away', it's equally as crushing. Dilating the tempo to a crawling, Bohren-like 40bpm, Avery just glances the drum heads, opening up time (and space, tbh) for Frye and bass clarinetist Jason Stein to haunt the emptiness with a permed woodwind duet. The sound's topped off with eerily ornate organ and synth vamps, and the result is like a half-speed Don Cherry, dazed from stretched tape and temporal disintegration. It's so good that the jammy, full-throttle finale 'Clock no Clock' kinda pales in comparison, but that's a minor grievance; if you're gonna study time, it should probably go both ways, right?