“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 seconds. Where is the running water, the laughter of children, the sign of grace?

I fill the space thinking of a cold moment; A look in the eyes of both the long-gone mind and the uneasy peace of the dead from ‘Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan’. Smoulders recalling the fire.”