There are times when experimental and/or noise/music enters that extremely murky canyon that separates brilliance from moronic and/or self indulged pretension. OK, maybe there are a LOT of those times, and maybe there's more output that sinks in that canyon than lands squarely on either side of it, BUT my point is that often I am not sure if I enjoy something because it's actually and objectively good (or even just interesting), or because I've been duped. I'm not the sharpest knife, and I'm pretty easy to get over on (especially when you're talking about something so completely outside of my typical wheelhouse), so maybe you throw a bunch of reverb on some ticking clocks and crumple paper next to a contact microphone and call it music and maybe I believe you. Or at least this is what I was thinking a few minutes into "Lacking A Cast Shadow," the opening track of 2008's Graduating From Clocks To Watches. There's no rhyme rhythm or real reason, it's just a collection of sounds, and there's no art to that, right? There's no skill to that....right? But, I thought, what if I like it anyway? What if the innocent monotony of "The Broken Windows Of A Fertile World" actually seems kinda gorgeous, even if there's really nothing to it, and what if that is actually the point? What if that first song really was just ticking clocks and tearing paper and what if that was the message? I mean, surely this release falls into that aforementioned canyon somewhere, and maybe it never even makes its way out of the abyss, but listening to the chaotic crescendo that closes 13+ minutes of "The Self Is An Onion-Self" to end this release I once again decide that I don't care. And that I will listen again and not make judgements. That I will just absorb, and the result becomes the meaning itself.