Thick with fruit, slightly tart, yet sweet. This is a richer sense of cherries from the tree—bound with enough sugar to be fluid, not sloppy. On English muffins or toast, it is beyond pulse-quickening, but used as the base of a sauce for chicken or pork roast, it has an interesting texture that could work well with a rich wed wine. Surprising even when it’s doing the job it was intended, Bonne Maman Cherry Preserves bring the essence of fruit to the tip of a spoon or knife for glorious consumption.
Harrowing circumstances, staggering odds, heart-breaking situations, Will Smith stars as a man who wants better for his child—and through relentless hard work and almost no breaks, he not just survives, he thrives. Anyone thinking they can’t only needs view this film - a real life story that’s earned Smith an Oscar nomination for Best Actor—to understand what it means to be willing to make it happen. Grim at times, almost overwhelming, there is proof—so to speak—in the pudding. There is also a tear-inducing performance by Smith’s own small son, as a child trying to understand and cope in the cross hairs is desperate living and normal thresholds of endurance for a kid. Power to those who refuse to be brokered a “less than…” position—and in that find their wings.
Start at the hips; gently need and roll the muscles, tendons and sinews. Watch as the leg stretches out saying more, deeper, release me. Work down the spine, over the tummy. Just enough pressure—following the way it all holds together. Start halfway down the front paws, gently rubbing your knuckles down the front then back to the leg—and slide up the relaxing limb until you reach the socket: again rub in a circular motion and feel the tightness ease out, the leg extend further. Zelda had displasia, so this began as defense against a future. Now it’s a luxury that is a way of life… a way of grounding me in my own life, settling her into the full luxury of her athletic little body. Yes, it keeps her spry, but it also keeps her very serene and grounded. Fabulous for my spaniel, even more relaxing and inspiring for me.
Carved out of a rough-hewn world with a rusty buck-knife, wild-eyed songwriter Chris Knight has the bloody knuckles to back-up the bravado of a local suggesting the big city guy spoiling for his date “Move On,” the hard-life stoicism of the former love trapped for protecting herself “Rita’s Only Fault,” the unblinking witness to capture a child’s slide from innocence to survival on the mean streets of escape “Hard Edges” and the farmer out of time, luck and hope “House and 90 Aces.” He’s got a voice like a broken barn door, rasping in what amounts to a John Lomax field recording, but the raw talent shows the former mining inspector to be a razor sharp reporter. Still somewhere between the bittersweet looking back on the rush of young love “Leaving Souvenirs” and the down-on-his-luck panhandler pulling a gun on the one who would shun him “If I Were You” is an encyclopedia of the human condition of the rural forgotten, hard timers and clingers to the frayed edges of a shredded American dream. Stark. Haunted. Mesmerizing. As literal as it is feral, only from a bluegrass singlewide trailer could a work this stunningly real emerge.
Intensely colored flowers, almost looking like trumpets of the origami on bushes that grow robust, covered with succulent forest green lives. They are the embodiment of lush - and the deeply fuchsia blooms speak of beauty as it falls before us, unselfconscious, absolute, easy.
Padded material covered with criss-crossed material, these are bulletin boards without the pushpins. Naturally mine are of Lilly Pulitzer repute—fields of bubblegum rhinos, ginourmous roses tendered in tangerine, lipstick, lemon and fuchsia and turquoise and jade peacocks fan dancing on a field of classic pink - but the rendering doesn’t matter. Just pick something that suits you, brightens your room and gives you an instant jolt of happy memories offset in their most appealing setting.
Rebound surfer God. One of the sport’s greatest athletes, the Hawaiian based Slater—with the deep eyes and the 8-pack body—has a way of picking up the pieces of Hollywood’s most broken hearted A-Listers. Glam. Sizzle. Pop. But ultimately, he is the pinnacle of human physical ability. He is one of those flesh-covered vessels of strength, balance, reflex and grace—and he has enough zen to be able to lend an ear, a shoulder and some insight. Not a bad combination
It is not so easy as simple mechanics. It is about the prism of the heart, the kindness of the spirit, the willingness to see things as they are. Tolstoy was no great romantic, yet he was a student of the human soul—and in that, he recognized that all things must be weighed by our best emotional scale. For it is through love, kindness, compassion that the unrevealed rises… surrenders… offers up its broken, weak and vulnerable places. Ruminate on this, and the understanding will come through.
Decadence in what looks like a diner. Every kind of risotto imaginable - with any kind of combo you can think of, and several that would never cross your mind. Delicious chewy, utterly infused with flavor - be it stock, cheese or a combination of spices and herbs - this is stick to one’s ribs comfort food at its finest. In addition, they have truly crisp fresh salads, pizzas with equally imaginative toppings, killer caffination (coffee, espresso, cappuccino) and honest to goodness fresh brewed tea. Reasonably priced. Absolutely delightfully friendly. Not necessarily on your way to anywhere, but worth the trip for the kind of thing that is theoretically easy enough, but is wrist-exhausting in its execution. Perfection on a plate with a big accent. It doesn’t get any better than that!
The smoky eye just got dusty—and what could be construed as hard becomes earthy, organic, even mysterious in a terre firme way. A straight-edged brush, some taupe eye shadow and an uprolled eye—swept along the bottom lashes—yields a ‘60s gamine in a slightly more gypsy rendering. For those who don’t feel quite all there without defined eyes, here’s a less made-up way to garner the same results.
For anyone who’s dreamed of being St Exupery or Amelia Earhart, Charles Lindbergh or either Wright Brother, these vintage images capture flying’s dawn with a romance that leaves one breathless, Gatsby-esque and lured beyond now with a weightlessness and rush of air that excites for its newness. The illustrations from the French Aviation Firm SPAD’s 1919 brochure is about elegance and implied luxury and freedom, the promise that would lure “sport aviators” to their biplanes post World War One. Dashing. Jaunty. Swooping across night skies and churning seas, as well as through mountain passes and pastoral clouds, these cards let you touch the heavens in an incredible poetic way—and then send the rush on to someone you reach out to by way of the U.S. Postal Service.
The eldest child of the Man in Black, Grammy-winning singer/songwriter Rosanne Cash reckons with her past and looks down the barrel of wide gauge legacy as she sings songs from her love’n'mourning meditation Black Cadillac with movies plying an eerie synchronicity. To be the child of a legend seems daunting, to have one’s Daddy be an icon seems beyond relevant… In these shows—already toured in Europe and Australia to rave reviews—the dark-headed songstress grapples with her internal quest and illuminates loss, life and love for her fellow late-in-life orphans. A wondrous thing to witness, a true gift to experience anywhere near you she may play.
Sometimes relief comes from letting the sensation pass, rather than responding to the symptom—and quelling the problem in the short term, only to inflame it to greater levels later. Not scratching sounds so simple, but it’s a reflexive reaction—one that requires recognition before another response can be engaged. Still, the less you scratch, the sooner you heal—and knowing that can make a few moments of discomfort seem like a flicker of inconvenience. Indeed, the mastery yields a whole new, deeper kind of relaxation—exhale and see.
A labor of love from Andy Garcia, this largely fictionalized accounting of the passion and painting of Modigliani and the woman who inspired him, stood by him and died rather than live without him captures Paris’ Belle Epoque, a particularly fertile time for art and potent for rivalries among the man who made the art, especially tormentor and helpmate when it suited Picasso. This is a boheme lived large—cast against Jeanne’s upright bourgeois Catholic family’s morals—and hard, the dissolute nature of the have nots more real than Hollywood gloss, the consumptions of disease, drink and drugs, as well as the obsession that comes with the artist’s mind. Romantic and callous in turns, cruelty veins the fantasy aspect of a film that almost seems the adult cousin of Baz Luhrman’s “Romeo & Juliette.” Renoir is portrayed as richly successful—and Picasso well on his way. Mexican muralist/communist Diego Riviera’s true political commitment never quite shines through, nor does the literary import of Cocteau or Gertrude Stein. Still, it is gorgeous and louche and truer than not, with a surging every man paint for the Salon competition climax that sees ground being broken and tilled in new and thrilling ways, as each paints with the fervor of a dervish and the jabbing mania of the possessed… In the end, though the hard scrabble reality’s as evident as the death and suicide ending that makes happily ever after an afterlife affair. Wishbone Necklace Heavy duty thread with a silver clasp and a cast wishbone. Put it on. Make a wish. Don’t tell. Wait for the necklace to fall off. When the no frills jewelry is no more, your wish shall come true. An odd trade, and yet… Who wouldn’t trade a cute little necklace for some gift of grace, love or magic?
Smoother. Richer. Deeper. It’s the mass-call-brand coffee that comes off from a place that doesn’t lean on overcharring—and in that mellowness, the javanation jolt kicks without biting. Just when you think it can’t get any better, buy one the night before—and tuck it in your refrigerator when you get home. To wake up to full strength, thoroughly chilled ice coffee is one of the greatest luxuries in the world. Try it, and taste for yourself.
As simple as yoga can get. Stand feet hips width apart. Feel the power of standing and holding one’s weight. Eyes forward, strong, clear. Reach your hands to the sky. Stretch without over-reaching. Feel the body lengthen, untwist, reintroduce itself to the various interconnected vertebrae and sinews. Mountain pose the glory of the strength, stability and grace inherently ours. Try it and see.
Nose to tail to nose to tail, this line of little piggies rendered with butter, cocoa, milk and coconut oil turns the gentle chocoholic into a raging hog. Desperately cute, there’s a whole new turn to “this little piggy with the creamy Belgian chocolate center covered with equally smooth milk chocolate. Found anywhere there’s a decent stock of high end, but consumer friendly chocolate, this is one more reason Canadians do it better… and if you come up a few little piggies short, no need to snort, website relief is available. The slogan says “wallow;” for once, ad copy is underselling. www.hagensborg.com
Slightly humid, it falls. Sometimes torrential and sideways. Sometimes by the tablespoon, splashing as high as one’s ankles with the upflush that seems almost slow-motion-pictured. Other times, it’s a gentle quiet rat-a-tatting, rhythmically pounding the roof with a calming consistency. Palm tree fronds flapping in the wind, the water lapping and churning, the puddles growing and the smell of wet sand, sawgrass and that intangible eau de tropic scent, it’s a deeply sensuous experience. But whether bleak and gray, black and imposing or indigo and sunny, the rain in Florida is a cleansing thing that churns up what often lies dormant inside us. Tempestuous at times, tranquil at others, it invokes things rain nowhere else ever has—and it makes this, almost always a short sustain burst, something to be appreciated in the moment.
The always off-the-hook Parker Posey is hilarious as the UMC striver, who is the seeming embodiment of human perfection—languishing in an equally perfect looking marriage, yet a field of unattainable climax. In her quest for her inner G spot and the shuddering release that the titles “Oh” evokes, this is a romp through various and sundry mechanicals, individuals and a pool selling dynamo played with hilarity and vulnerability by Danny Devito. An odd little comedy that has a fair bit of pathos beneath the weirdness, a total on-the-road unplugging strategy—as it sweeps you up and rescues you from the tedium of a business trip and the loneliness of being away.
He is a bad man, that Gordon Hammersley… Offering up a hardy, inside-out warming menu that takes all the best of the season’s mainstays and spinning them into poetry and soul-stirring sustenance. Crispy duck confit with wild rice pancakes, cranberries and spiced pecans? Seared venison carpaccio with crumbled feta, fennel and white truffle oil? Pumpkin polenta with rabbit roulade, pecorino romano and fried sage? Oxtail minestrone? And those are just appetizers… Cassoulet and grilled hangar steak, the world’s best roast chicken and lamb three ways are the carnivore delights, while there’s roasted haddock with braised leek and finnan haddie infused hollandaise, spicy pan roasted lobster, eastern halibut and wellfleet clams… and, well, you get the idea. Desserts every bit as sumptuous and intensely flavored. Worth the trip to Boston alone…
Samuel Jackson as an R.B. Morris-type bluesman. Christina Ricci as the nymphomaniac he finds on the side of the road, needing tending… and nuevo-“Sexxyback”er Justin Timberlake as the object of Ricci’s desire. One of those Robert Johnson “Crossroads” kinda devlish deals, from the people who brought you the brutally real Memphis-based street-rap saga “Hustle & Flow.” A gotta go, gotta make sure this one registers at the box office, so a new Tarantino is launched.
One of those records so intimately capturing the 70s surrender to the 80s, it’s almost beyond cognition. Yet, this was the moment when Michael McDonald’s husky soulpreach wail came of age; was there anything more ardent and lay-it-all-down for-a-woman than his “Here To Love You”? The notion of “Dependin’ On You”… later to prop up on the No Nukes all-star Musicians United for Safe Energy package… an anthem without trying to be, a communal sense of reach-out, connect, make a difference? Ubiquitous though “What A Fool Believes” might have been, “Sweet Feelin’,” with silky vocal support from Nicolette Larson, is charming in that innocent notion that being alive, American and in love was enough. Funky and soulful, rocking without flexing, this is what it meant to be alive when Camaros were the ride above all others, feathered hair and Farrah Fawcett ruled and everything seemed to be on an externally expansive curve. www.tecasan.com 382 W. Broadway, NYC Wow… seven designers ranging from elegant to retro, athletic to fanciful. Limited numbers of each size, truly allowing “normal” girls to have utterly special shoes. The notion of founder Asil Attar was to find seven deserving their talents and nurture their gifts while developing a brand of shoes that speaks to the unique in reach of us. Whether it’s Gaetano Perrone’s futuristic, but clean ballet slippers and pumps, some adorned with one giant jewel or his cut-out platform wedge adorned with intricately cut butterflies (pricey at $800, but also rendered as a flat sandal for $275), Manuela Filipovic gem-toned deco pumps, tied chunky sandals or bootlets or Zoe Lee’s wrap’n'buckle suede slouch boots ($445, a quarter of what a McQueen, a Givency or YSL would charge for the same if not more), these are originals for women who believe in being their own person… With Giancarlo Soldi’s old Hollywood glamour shrieking sexiness with swooping straps and towering stiletto heels, in luxurious materials, Fay.B’s utilitarian unique within the confines of tradition (an oxymoronic frazzler that deserves three cheers for unprecedented originality within the frame of conventional) and Niki Robinson’s recycled patchwork demi-boots, pumps, slingback and tall boots with wooden buttons, this global site and store serves not only who you are, but who you hope to be. Even if only as a source if reinvention inspiration, it glimmers and glitters there in cyber-heaven… type your way to imagination realized on a scale that’s livable and attainable.
Creamy, sexy, warm… Lightly breaded, then fried til the oozy gooey goodness spills out when you pull it apart with your fork, the deep fried mac’n'cheese, sitting on a thick puddle of creamy, chunky tomato sauce, is not right. It just isn’t. Nothing should be quite that good…
The divine Miss Andrea, a true Southern diva and goddess if ever there was one, is not coping well with Northern winters. Though as global warming caves to brutal temperatures, who can blame the former baton spinner for signing off with a far more apropos take on the hip hop exit “Peace Out”? Take it as your own… she’d have it no other way.
Subtitled The Street That Music Made, this is an art book that captures the moments from destitute to the spark of rebirth on Nashville’s famed and fallen honky tonk strip. The outlaws, losers, bottom-feeding hookers and drunks with nowhere else to go formed an alliance of honky tonk music lovers and friends riding out a storm. That Tootsies Orchid Lounge, the legendary beer joint the Grand Ole Opry stars would sneak into between sets at the Ryman, has maintained makes it an elder statesman among the ghosts of the clubs that once were. Thank heavens for Rouda, an architect of memory, who captured the lost souls and never quites who have Lower Broadway its heart during the desolation years, and whose hardcore commitment to country’s most gutbucket roots paved the way for a rebirth on the heels of br-549 and Hank Williams’ recaster Greg Garing, along with Lucinda Williams and a cast of neobeatpoetcowpokes. Indeed, Lucinda writes the introduction. But even for a writer of her mettle, trying to capture what that time was - the filament of an unexposed bulb consuming itself too fast - is a fate beyond words. That’s what makes these pictures so precious: they are as it was. Unburnished, yet absolutely glowing with people who cared about the place, the people and the community they forged.
With the grand Cleveland Museum of Art re-opening after renovations, what could be more breath-taking than Monet’s evolving relationship with Normandy’s dramatic coast? Fifty paintings have been culled from the work of the Impressionist painters whose work has always been such a strong part of the Ohio museum’s presence and being, and they are being curated for a who that traces his evolution through a set region.
The classic unwind brew—a tisane more than an actual tea—it’s normal calming chamomile. Stomach soothing mint brew is enhanced with valerian. Valerian is, of course, the magic tincture that sends one off to the land of nod, but here it’s not quite so concentrated and its somewhat brutal flavor is lost in the orange-blossom and spearmint notes that expand the Sleepytime signature taste. Not quite as intense in terms of the velocity of valerian, this is gentler, more suggestive descent. Something that settles more than infiltrates. For people who just need a little unwinding, it’s perfection in a steamy tea cup.
How can we be fully ourselves if we do not know the joy of releasing our heart? To understand the depths of what our emotions can embrace is to understand how broadly our being extends. Beyond the realm of reason is love… and in love is everything we stand, fall, believe in or for. It’s the greatest wonder, strongest joy, hardest pain and - perhaps—most necessary aspect of our humanity. Until you understand how far you can go, how do you know who you are?
Founded in 1888, this smoky caramel essence of sugar cane has a depth and richness to it that makes this Dominican Republican brew slightly more sophisticated than its more laidback fellow rums. Small batches in gold fishnet mesh wrapping are shipped to the States, and one must know to ask for it… And yet, like good cognac or brandy, but without the burn, this is a drink that opens up served straight or offers a sophisticated over the rocks that feels more like a blended spirit, yet offers the same brain-opening, slowly-relaxing effect of that we’ve come to expect from the tropical liquor. A bit exotic, yet utterly potable, the kind of beverage to savor slowly without having to work at it.
Close to the body, so one can sleek in their sweat gear, this bit of heathered grey hits just above the hip—creating a definite sense of waistline, reinforcing the notion of dangerous curves. The hood itself has no drawstring, so it retains its shape, the pockets have the same jaunty insouciance as a baseball jacket. With the maroon “a.” over one’s heart and the address emblazoned across the back, this is a street legal style zone that supports the most endangered species of all: the independent record store. Buy one, show your support. www.abovegroundrecords.com
The ultimate mix & match cake of your dreams center, you can pick the cake, the filling, the frosting… and have it made to order. It’s a full service Cuban sandwich/coffee place, but the proof is in the pastry—and nothing is yummier than this temple of yellow cake with apricot and mocha filling, all slathered with a thick layer of mocha frosting. Javapricotta rolled in bits of nuts and dotted with apricot along the florette edging. Mmmmmmmmmmm…
It is, you know. Absolutely. Indeed, mix tapes and the songs that are reflexive time travel are the core of our very being. Here, Rob Sheffield—Rolling Stone critic at large and masterful writer—fence posts the major passages of his life, and copes with the unthinkable: the loss of his vibrant, vivacious punk rock d’amour five years into a marriage that never lost its thrill or its heart. The whole story—of two kids ablaze with the music, making their way as critics and living in the American South—is tenderly rendered with connections made, songs described, moments frozen as warm and real as if they were right now. www.dailykos.com As the political season heats up, this is the one website you need to get a sense of the liberal tides, the conservative refractions and the push that pulls party lines. So much bluster makes it hard to hear through the white noise and talking heads… But this is one stop shopping that most of the politicos turn to, too. Not exactly insider information, yet a perspective that’s consistent—and information that’s often in front of traditional media outlets and at odds with Fox News.
Electric rainbow colors, rendered in foamy rubber. The good folks at Be As You Are have come up with beach thongs that declare “flip” and “flop” as if there could ever be any confusion. Still, rather safe than sorry out under the great big sun - and with soles that declare Be As You Are on a perpetually repetitive diagonal, these are play kicks that reinforce the most laidback ways of being.
Just a mysterious breath of peach in all that soft pink. A sense of flesh beneath the flower. Sweet without being cloying, lovely without being real. Mona Lisa Roses offer a sense of pretty beyond the obvious—like English cottages, quiet rooms and a certain smile.
4 leeks—white and light green part only, thinly sliced and sautéed until translucent in 2 tbsp butter. Add 6-8 small red bliss or other potato, quartered of smaller… cook another 10-12 minutes, gently stirring. Add 1 quart chicken stock, a twirls of fresh pepper, turn to low below medium, cover and let simmer for 25 minutes. Remove. Puree in a blender or food processor. If you’re going to serve cold (the classic way), allow to cool to room temperature (about 2 hours), whisk in 1/4 cup sour cream, heavy cream or yogurt. To heat, return to flame and slowly whisk in dairy—being careful not to boil. Simple, impressive. Soul-satisfying.
Exquisitely edited jewelbox of a store, with a paisley gob of stationary, decorative tiles, jewelry, plates, soaps, paperweights, lovelies and tiny splurges. It is the very indulgences that’re so unnecessary, yet define a home, a life, a being. Nothing too decadent to induce guilt, yet pricey enough to let you know this is, indeed, a special purchase, a treasure to be tied up in one of their sweet little bags and cherishes for its vintage sense, modern lines or simple beauty. Girly girly without the estrogen overload, any man who wanders in walks out a winner, and women who cross the threshold can be lost in the diminutive space for hours.
They go. They experience. They share. In doing so, your friends get to relive, reflare, recharge what has already happened—and in that bringing it all back to mind, an experience is shared by people who care. In the re-telling, it almost becomes more for the traveler—and in the hearing, a wide open world becomes a bit more the property of the homebound. How wonderful to have someone else’s lense to bring beauty, architecture, culture, cuisine, clothes and—especially for me—the music back alive. Whether it’s whale watching in the Pacific Ocean off Mexico, going to Glasgow to sing songs for voracious audiences or buzzing down to the free-for-allishness of Florida’s spring training, there is so much pass-along joy and ground to cover. All you have to do is ask, “How was your trip?”
A martyr who was befriended by the wildest animals while living in exile and hiding in the wilderness, St. Blase (d. 311) was a gentle soul who fought for his flocks’ spiritual and physical health. In England, the patron saint of wool combers - iron rakes, akin to what wool is processed with, were used to tear the flesh from his body as he hung from a tree for sacrifice to pagan gods, he is more universally recognized in America as the saint of sore throats - the faithful coming to place their throats between crossed candles on his feast day (Feb. 3) to receive the following blessing: “Through the intercession of St. Blasé, bishop and martyr, may God deliver you from ailments of the throat and from every other evil. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
With plenty of shea butter, the lavender acts as both a relaxing agent and a purifying element. Deeply moisturizing, it goes into the soles, the heels and releases the rich creaminess to soften the overworked and trying to callous places. And because it smells so good, rubbing and kneading becomes an act of pleasure more than merely a hygienic duty. The kind of indulgence that makes standing, striding and running a more invigorated process.
Well, well, well… here’s a world for the impending season of doom! In its broadest sense, this bad boy sums up as injurious or harmful, as in the kind of kids your parents didn’t want you hanging around. But in a world of greed, corruption, aggressive dismissals by transgressors who’re challenged, it’s really an elevated one-stop shopping descriptor for the damned. Slap somebody with this one, and nothing more needs to be said.
More than just an amazing source of vitamin C, an antiseptic that’s good for one’s teeth and gums and a naturally occurring source of fiber, cranberries cooked for that 5 quick minutes in water with a bit of sugar, then let to set are plain delicious. Tart, crisp, just the faintest bit wild, this is a fruit that can be served as an accompaniment to meat, with ice cream, poundcake or pudding or on its own a breakfast element. Utterly versatile, singularly delicious—and sadly, constrained to the third Thursday in November. Available all winter long, though, cranberries are ready for liberation… let the revolution begin!
Guiltiest of pleasures, tawdriest of secrets. Courtney Cox and husband David Arquette have produced a tabloid tv dramedy that gets inside (and upside down) the weekly glossy tabloids with the sort of far-flung mediacentricity that really reigns in those celebibles devoted to the bold-faced, beautiful and fallen. With Paul Reubens—PeeWee Herman to some—as an alcoholic reporter who wrote the book on getting the story, these characters seem overplayed, and yet… in the quick-hit, chew’em-up’n'sell’em-out world for moving magazines, it’s not as far off as the melodrama’d have you think. Reputedly Us editrix Janice Min was a “silent consultant,” and certainly the publisher has tones of Rolling Stone founder/publisher Jann Wenner’s empire-centric self, this is in-your-face, overblown and just the way anyone who’s ever wenthead into the eye of the storm would tell you if they could honestly remember the madness rushing and swooshing at them. From the junkie girlfriend of the fixing to happen box office sensation, the married action-star with the secret gay life or the cheerleader who became a star in death, it’s a lesson in what rings the public consciousness. Tuesday nights. 10 EST.
What could be more erotic? More beyond words? More of a an open upstairs window, curtains moved by the breeze through the trees? John Coltrane does an existential exercise in notes, rhythms, melody—and he gets inside the listener’s cell structure and re-arranges everything. Lie on your back, alone or with another, and feel your thoughts re-order, draw out in ways you didn’t know you could consider. Find yourself drifting, merging with energy, thoughts, ideals you’d never considered—and let yourself go even further…