The creeping moan of deep space realized through mics and sax and pedals and effects. Eternal echoes. Stomp-box clicks and pad taps. Zone ventures, gliding on spirit and attitude. Eyes closed, mind loose, squealing a song and rocking back and forth.
Rob Michalchuk isn’t new to this. Underground champion; Poor Little Music head honcho; Canadian. Yes, all three. Mr. Michalchuk’s newest zoner, Flesh, stays the zonked out course of his previous efforts, but this baby is limited. Only one (!) copy of the tape left.
More about: Rob Michalchuk
