Composer-performer Dave Chokroun tries to
write music as if it's moonshine. The process involves
finding usable scraps and leavings, letting them sit around
for a while, and then running the whole mess through some
improvised, unsafe apparatus to produce a potent distillate.
Consumption may induce apocalypsis, though not in a religious
way - more like, in the literal sense of, lifting the veil.
It has been said that art is not a mirror held up to the
world, but a hammer with which to shape it. But what if the
mirror is one of the parabolic ones that lets you see into
all the aisles? Or the one-way glass of the interrogation
room? An X-ray pornography of intention and reception. The
history of the twenteenth century as shadows, smoke, a bag of
rocks. Worried past the line of the sleeping town by the
barking of dogs, the poet sits down for a minute and eats a
critical metasandwich.