A new addition to Eric La Casa's investigation of all things sonic. Previously he's offered us beautiful assemblages of sounds from, among other places and things, his apartment, a construction site and a series of urban barricades. Each one of these hid surprise and unexpected nuance. The sets collected here are of two underground parking spaces being activated by a pair of improvisers while two recordists wander, following their ears. Pairs and pairs and pairs.

I won't be so gauche as to suggest that one can smell the oil and rubber attendant to such spaces, but having played in a few myself I get a definite sense of familiarity. The long reverberation time and odd dislocation effects, occasional bumps or tinkerings all add to a sense of exploration and open-mindedness. The garages become the defining character, at one point interjecting bits of conversation and blasts of classical music, which sax and violin attempt valiantly to drown out. This creates a palpable tension, at least for me, and I'm very much relieved when it finally ends. A bit of engine noise (of course!) but oddly, no squealing tires. Imitations of warning chimes and wind through enclosed spaces, and notes held long for detailed examination.

As stated, there are two different garages represented here. The second recording begins with some sort of mechanical sound over which Guionnet pipes a repeated series of notes, holding the last for several seconds and letting it morph. Either he is moving or one of the recordists are because the timbre shifts ever-so-slightly. In the midst of this we hear a door slam and it's perfect. Mechanical sound returns, possibly an air compressor, and Guionnet continues on, unperturbed. A car outside my house joins in, causing me to think about the connections in my listening. That's what the whole enterprise is about, really.