While this album was written and completed in early 2022 the work here reflects about a decade's worth of developing a unique approach to improvising, super-imposition, and sound engineering as a method of constantly shifting and expanding composition. In many ways this work is the logical conclusion of the desire for, and searching after, a certain sound and feeling, which I believe is present here....

...The ooze is all encompassing. The ooze moves across and through all things. The ooze is action and thought. The ooze is place and also the disintegration of place. The ooze is a dark river flowing from nowhere to nowhere. My good friend gave me this idea in a letter when I drifted to the desert. That is, that the creative mind is a dark river flowing from nowhere to nowhere. I painted the phrase on two mostly buried cinder blocks in the dirt pit at my rented house in a fractured lot surrounded by slothfully collapsing architecture. The script is faded now but I can see it as I rip away the stringy grass and shovel away the dirt that has blown over it from years of wind. This is an album that is as much about leaving a place as it is about being a body in a place. Not really a goodbye—More like an exasperated exhale...

... Artifacts of passing moments season the composition—phantom soundings—my kid eating a bowl of cereal, a dog barking, an orgasmic laugh, a distant cough. I didn’t place these things here, they just are. Sonic toilet flush. Dripping mouth. Ear worms.Pop signals. No back/fore-ground. Reflective doorways, crushing gates, flickering envelopes, walls of thought. Where is mind in all of the wash?

The ooze is animal and plant. The ooze is wash and clammer. The ooze is meat. The ooze of the body in heat. The ooze is space-time. The ooze is music. The ooze is everything that is not music. The ooze is death but not the end. Like a mushroom spore. An underground system. I play a note, or a scattering of notes. Something else is tangled and much more sophisticated below that note. Para-sonic. Terra-psychic. Horror and jubilation. A dark river flowing from nowhere to nowhere.