Roof
The Untraceable Cigar

And... now for something completely different!  

 Ladies and Gentlemen:   

Tom Cora, Luc Ex, Phil Minton, Michael Vatcher. Cello, bass, voice, drums.

 The Roof.

But first, a little history:
Cora, a Virginia native, adopted New Yorker, a mad cello pioneer, noise genius improviser, companion in mischief of personalities like John Zorn and Fred Frith.

 Luc Ex, from Amsterdam, twenty years of rocking the four strings in the avant-jazz ensemble The Ex, numerous collaborations (including Han Bennink, Sonic Youth, and Fugazi, no less!), also owner of the label Konkurrent (a true institution in the distribution and dissemination of independent music) and film producer.

 Minton, English, migrated to the States, trumpeter by birth but devil of the vocal cords by vocation, an authentic and revered authority in the field of improvisation: a life spent blaring into the microphone, accompanied by the likes of Peter Brötzmann, Fred Frith, John Butcher, Veryan Weston, and countless others.
One who doesn’t fuss about formalities, and, though no longer the youngest, still enjoys dribbling, hissing, grunting, meowing, machine-gunning phonemes, making noises, and spewing all human knowledge (and beyond!): enough to make Patton's hair turn green.

 Vatcher, finally, Californian then flown over to the Netherlands, active in theater and dance, also dedicated to the most cultured sound masturbation, he who marked non-times for Zorn (and who hasn't Zorn worked with?), for Luc Ex's own The Ex, and a myriad of other artists it's unnecessary to mention, because in the big avant-garde family, everyone is friends, we meet, we love each other, it's a big party, as long as no one starts playing a four-four!

 So, the first knows the second, the third knows the first, the fourth knows the second, and the four finally think of doing something together.

But what could possibly come of it?

 Donald Duck angry and irritable, squeezing and rubbing and crumpling a balloon intending to burst it, while the Pink Panther improvises as a knife thrower.

 I speak as an ignoramus, of course, and besides telling you that this stuff could seriously interest those with strong sympathies for people like Zorn, Mr. Bungle, Primus, Dirty Three, Zu, Area, and the Robert Wyatt of "The End of an Ear," I wouldn’t know what else to add.

 Except that the Roof had a short life: born in 1995, they disbanded just four years later in conjunction with the premature death of Cora.

About fifty concerts and only two albums, "The Untraceable Cigar" (1995) and "Trace" (1999): this is what the Roof left behind (turned into 4Walls after the three survivors decided to continue by enlisting pianist Veryan Weston).

 Different musicians, distant in cultural background and geographical origin, but with a passion for improvisation, and this seems enough to make the magic happen: "The Untraceable Cigar" thus captures the moment, the joy of sharing, the funny sonic effluence of four artists who impose no other rule but to subvert them all.

 We talk about broken phrasing, epileptic times, creaks, squeaks, sneers, collapses, tangles and everything that one might legitimately expect from avant-garde photographed in its most anarchic, ironic, destabilizing form: avant-garde born as a game and becomes art.

The snapshot of a laboratory in full swing.

The humor and non-sense of an art that does not intend to amaze, but which is the spontaneous and inevitable result of those who renounce, well knowing it, the grammar of harmonies.

 But in this case, mind you, free does not necessarily rhyme with chaos, the four are real gentlemen: at times, imagine, they dare something organic, grow impetuously, or let themselves be contaminated by that strange thing that is melody.

And Minton, in "The Prince" (lyrics by lyricist Paul Haines), even starts to sing!

 But precisely in the balance between completed and deconstruction, elegance and pranks, geometries and doodles lies the secret of this jewel, which not only plays on alternations but also on stratifications, leveraging the (de)constructive dialogue of the instruments, the miraculous empathy and genuine, playful, and childlike spirit of an avant-garde made with the heart.

 For those who love rock when it tinges with avant-garde and want to taste what avant-garde is that predates rock!