Like many people, the music of Steve Reich has had an enormous impact on me. It seems to speak of some deep, circular truth — like an auditory model of the interlocking vibrations of atoms. This may (or may not) seem ridiculous from the standpoint of actual physics, but the suggestion of the metaphor is there, and I believe that it is in this form of suggestion that music draws much of its power, mystique, and significance in the mind of a listener. It was my desire to be a part of this vibrating atomic mass that inspired me to realize my own version of "Electric Counterpoint." Considering my deep appreciation for this music, it might seem ironic that there is very little, if any, trace of its influence in my own work. As fascinating as it is, I have never been too successful in creating sonic engines and self-perpetuating musical structures. Mostly, I might suppose, because I admittedly do not have too much interest in creating them. Although a somewhat fastidious composer of notes, I enjoy intuitive risk taking when composing, and entertaining the myriad new directions and possibilities that often come with the writing of each successive bar. In the case of "Sunrise from the Bottom of the Sea," the process was one step further removed, since, other than a loose, preconceived formal structure based on the transference of different instrumental timbres — and a movement away from an atmosphere of general stasis to one of intense rhythmic activity — "Sunrise" was created almost exclusively through the process of improvisation. Grabbing an instrument — a soprano recorder, a viola, or perhaps a set of tuned crystal glasses — I would simply play, letting the process of multi-track recording and overdubbing suggest the music which ultimately filled my initial elastic mold. For me, the music contained on this disc represents two disparate poles of the same world. One tightly controlled and predetermined, the other an afterimage of an intuitive journey through sound that might have ended up quite differently had it been taken on a different day. The collection ends with "One Thought Among Many," a small studio creation for electric guitars and looping machines that reflects the previous world of "Sunrise," and serves as a more abstract and surreal “bookend” to the beautifully calculated, kaleidoscopic array which precedes it.