Eerie / pulsing; abrupt / curt; floating / shining; dissonant / abrasive: it moves between moods, scenes, vignettes rapidly (though Time often seems to elongate or get displaced: a common occurrence in Feldman's pieces, particularly the loooong, later ones...).
At points, it reminds me of a softer, Flattened-Affect analogue of Sun Blindness Music (Cale's one-chord 45-minute strategy reduced to 8-second streamers of sunlight, softened / buffed-down into smooth velvet rivulets, shorn of malevolence, from a stark, rayban-wearing premonition of "Sister Ray"); elsewhere, it invokes 19th Century English Organ music or La Monte Young's high-tension wire tones... incredibly, restlessly Postmodern - the piece seems to flick through an imaginary 'catalogue' of pitch intervals and tone combinations, hinting at a potentially infinite number of possible variations, a universe of endless variety, yet the piece never feels rushed or cramped. It shifts from something that feels incredibly forward-thinking, almost impossibly hypermodern, to suddenly sounding archaic, wooden-panelled: notes hovering in dead, dust-filled air - the brief, dank chill of cold autumn pews - spiritual mildew - then back to something gleaming and mathematically intuitive.
Note sequences draw slow circles in the air; the bucket-seats of a Big Wheel materialise in the sky, one at a time, conjured up by musical stop-animation; the notes seem to arc clockwise through my head, trace slow orbits... a minute hand moving a notch at a time round a clock-face while the music ebbs n flows, slides outside of linearity.
Fingers climb stairways of sound. Helical sun-devils, musical lensflare.
Dark chords. Grey chords. Mishapen intervals. Ragged elegance. Vibrating columns of air; tubes - each one a note - racing one another, meeting, colliding, pulsing in and out of time / sync / phase, back and forth: vibrational litanies. Tones throb, ache, chime, grind, glide, hover, overlap, collapse.