Notes from the artist: How much can a water bear.

In JG Ballard’s Crash, a symbiotic relationship exists between technology and human. Bodies wrap around technology as an extension, both shaped and shaping. The saxophone machine has certainly shaped my artistic responses. Solos draws on the design quirks of the saxophone itself. Each track takes a segment of the saxophone as a limitation to use as an anchor and a departure point for the improvisational explorations of micro-sounds and liminal sonic events. Never in in his wildest dreams would Adolphe Sax have considered the direction the great conversation amongst saxophonists has taken his creation (I think it is safe to say).

Several themes dominate Solos. The infinity sign in the title represents the predominance of circular breathing, a striving towards perpetual motion, the stretching of physical limits. Perpetual motion is also hinted at in the virtuosic arpeggiations anchored formally through morphing harmonies connected through common tones. The speed combined with circular breathing enables the foregrounding of another theme, that of an implied counterpoint. The rapid register shifts cause a blurring of perception, though in some cases, such as the extended drones, the counterpoint is real, as I superimpose my voice over the drone, as well as coaxing secondary overtone melodies. A further dialogue emerges between planned and unplanned sonic events accruing from fatigue, on the boundary of control.

No overdubs were injured in the making of this album. Everything you hear happened a linear fashion, for the most part in complete takes. What adds an interesting element is the introduction of a hyper-reality, where close micing was used to catch micro sounds often overlooked or simply avoided. Key clicks, breathing, and spit, all play important structural roles throughout. The amplification of the keys enables me to highlight the saxophone as a form of drum, most obviously in the tracks made of solely key clicks, and also, if you listen closely, to the sticky pads releasing. Sugar went into the making of this album too. Less obviously, I treat the saxophone in reverse, lifting fingers in various combinations to explore microtones, multiphonics, and muffled tones. The didgeridoo plays an important part in forming my artistic conception. The drone enables me to sing, exploring beating patterns as vibrations merge and react, as well as being more plainly guttural and cathartic in my gestures.

As has been the norm in my recent work, I adopted an animal, the tardigrade; though by now I am convinced it may be the other way around. Welcome to the mycelial network I guess. A.K.A my brain, a matrix of possibilities seeking a singularity in the emergences of the present moment. I have no idea how the tardigrade became my power animal. Perhaps, as I watched Star Trek, with the tardigrade plugged into the mycelial network, I opened a portal through which a whisper travelled: ’I am tiny, yet my complexity will trip you out.’ No arguments here. I dedicated entire drone tracks to the desiccated states which enable the tardigrade to extend a three week life span over a century; tun state and cryptobiosis. Also to their reproductive virtuosity; some cheeky parthenogenesis to save the day? (Somehow solo improvisation reminds me of parthenogenesis). The birthing sounds near the end of the track give way to Hatching, a barrage of key clicks, leading to the spitty emergence of a Moss Piglets. Other tracks are dedicated to the scientists who captured and studied the tardigrade. How to tame water bears is a ballad and a lure, hopefully an important future soundscape to coax unknown species from their nooks. Of course, you must look in the right places, which is absolutely everywhere apparently. Japanese Carpark is dedicated to one of the most famous hang out spots, apart from space. Tardigrades in outer space is an ode to Ripper, the unfortunate tardigrade in Star Trek who was plugged in to help navigate the mycelial network. Perhaps the most metaphorical take away is that visually amplified, the tardigrade is super interesting, just like the sonically micro sounds of the saxophone.

Many thanks to Brodie McAllister for suggesting that I make this album, catalysing me to record a frame around the many processes I am still exploring. Also, to Louise Wheatley, whose ears, and conceptual imagination were invaluable. Also, of course to the many saxophonists and composers who have fed my imaginative language and encouraged me for so long. There are the ones who had no idea, except in a mycelial, time-collapsing sense, such as Mule, Delangle, Dolphy, Coltrane, Scelsi, Cage, to name a smattering of early influences, as well as the many Aussie saxophonists who have developed and played alongside me. I feel this album marks a beginning. Live long and prosper.