“To transform an improvisation as minimal and impressionistic as its ‘once you see it’-cover art into something as tepid as a description seems to rather miss the point. But so does writing about music in general, so a trifle; ‘33’ came to me sounding like a kalimba in the remorseful guise of the piano its killed. The soft, discordant quality leaves room for a troublesome and melancholy uncertainty, with no resolution from the enigmatic title, the plea in its ambient silences, or the sentencing of the final…