June 10, 2008
Dissonance and fear mark this ode to the late sci-fi writer as we all trundle a-shudder toward the apocalypse. The arrangements are so thorny that vocalist Mankwe Ndosi can only gingerly step through them in pain, evoking everything from panic to ebullience. Horns are forever shrill, sputtering hot-blooded skronk,, and even Mitchell's weapon, the saintly, gentle flute, is but a mere nuclear butterful flapping madly over jagged doom ("Transition C"). Pianist Justin Dillard offers a light respite in "Before and After," his accompanists snarling behind a sealed wal, but it's only a matter of time before a pair of explosions split his keys into chips of glisten descending to earth. It's some cold, no-escape shit.