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Rating: Get yourself into an empty room, a big one.
Position the stereo, and especially the speakers.
Turn off the lights and press play.
You will discover the sound.
Like breathing mountain air for the first time.
Like running your tongue over your teeth after the dentist's cleaning.
Like having always eaten Cornetto Algida and then discovering Castiglione's gelato (only for those from Bologna).
As if the sound had found a medium purer than air to propagate.
The guitars are clear, but clear is an understatement.
The piano is enveloping, but enveloping is an understatement.
The sound has a profound shape, it has body, it is substance and it enters your ears, tickles the most remote corners, amazes; the whole room fills your ears with instruments.
You are listening to this compelling novelty, this revelation that the instruments are presenting to you, and at the same time you know perfectly well that you are listening to Jim O’Rourke, in every explosion, in every tiny intrusion in the background (which does not go unnoticed), you recognize him.
When you hear just the guitar (and I'm not even sure it's ever alone) it seems enough to fill all the space, yet the space fills up even more, it expands, able to contain an infinite series of perfectly distinct sounds, which even manage to clash harmoniously.
Your ears are full, you are in an empty, dark room.
And yet you are seeing the music.
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