Neil Davidson acoustic guitar
George Lyle double bass

When a black mountain appears above the clouds, a huge monster will arise and try to destroy the world; but when the red moon sets and the sun rises in the west, two monsters shall appear to save the people.
This album is the sonic equivalent of the epic battle over Tokyo between Godzilla and Destoroyah with the energy intensity of the entire Destroy All Monsters Crew. Keep in mind it has no relentless screams and smashing and destructive earth shattering violence. Perhaps it’s more accurate to imagine this as an abstract non repetitive dance with Merce Cunningham and Martha Graham. But let’s replace Martha with the anarchist inventor of Contact Improvisation, Steve Paxton, for closer accuracy. And we can dress one of them in a costume made of garbage by Robert Rauschenberg and the other will wear a human sized Cat Bus by Monster Chetwynd.

George Lyle is playing double bass and Neil Davidson is playing acoustic guitar. They move separately together as overlapping shadows. This is salt-of-the-earth-lifting-a-black-cloud jamming; deep excavation energy music, not fire music; hyper kinetic hypnosis trance travelling trip walking climbing biking music. At times you can hear whistling sideways slide with rubberized waltzing and small mammals on the move. Huffin’ gas descending lost in deep focus, leaving you there to take it away. These two men stalk one another, with one claiming to be a reporter while the other attempts to steal the prize, but fails and flees. They repeat this in retrograde with extra special effects made of dust and hope.

This is BIG! yet completely human scale. It was recorded in the front room of George’s flat on Belmont Street in Glasgow. I know this because I was a frequent visitor and played music there with George quite often. Neil and I had a duo called With Lumps and a trio with Armin Sturm called The Final Five. We were also knocking around with the crypto-conceptual science fiction cover band Asparagus Piss Raindrop. I lived right up the road at the top of the hill on Wilton Street and Neil lived half way between us. They were two of my most frequent and favourite musical collaborators. Hearing this music is like time travel. It tweaks my ears and heart simultaneously. It was also recorded just a few months before George passed away. He died right after a swim at the Arlington Baths. He pulled himself out of the pool, felt unwell, laid down and slipped away.

Music has the capacity to trigger memories for events and places connected to hearing it. I haven’t heard these pieces until now, while I’m writing this text. However, it feels like I’m in the room. Its like I’ve heard it before and I’m in an ultra familiar place of levitation and focus. But now the room is floating in my head - the upright piano, sagging furniture and a wall full of records as a photo of his guru drifts off the mantle. It’s some kind of memory mind medicine and with some strong coffee this stuff will take me deep into the eternal afternoon.

- Fritz Welch