USA, 1968, avant-garde jazz
When you’re small enough time that you don’t have to give a fuck, and so you can make something exactly the way you want, with all the minimal silliness you want. This album is rated low as of now only because it’s never been reissued. But as soon as some bearded hipsters reissue this album, everyone will suddenly act like this is a wonderful forgotten gem. My two-year-old, who has to be distracted with Stravinsky to eat at meal times, is, right now, dancing like a clumsy ballerina to this album. Yep. She knows more than you do.