<a href="http://denversyntax.com/issue26/music/bitz/music.html">An essay by Jonathan Bitz
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For thirty minutes. For an hour. There are no ringing cell phones or places to be. Just an honest chance for you to get lost. To get outside yourself. And, if you want to go further, you can learn about this piece, that instrument, her voice, those songs, that break before they fall back into the verse. Here, you can get lost in the abstract things. A beautiful passage at the introduction of the third composition. A run at the end of the fourth. Maybe just one moment. But whichever way, job well done: for one, expansive moment, you’re lost. You’ve forgotten what day it is and your ego is terrified because you’re not paying it any mind. You’re thinking. Then, you’re not. You’re drumming. Swaying. Kind of dancing. Somewhere in a lighted lagoon you surface, but your ego is still under, in the caves. What makes this work, how long have they been playing together – really, what is music? Why do I even enjoy this strange, primitive thing? I can’t even understand what they’re saying, but their instruments are speaking too and I somehow understand what they’re trying to tell me even though I don’t know what the key of E means relative to anything at all.

