The art of suggestion via the manipulation of old vinyl records was not born yesterday, and there is not much that a performer can do to add or subtract meanings to objects that seem to exist exactly for the purpose of fixing an era in some sort of artificial mental environment that only our own personality will determine. Together with Janek Schaefer (my personal favourite in this field, I must admit), Philip Jeck has been active for many years now trying to convey the spirits of a past that might still be useful as far as introspection and self-analysis are concerned. “Sand” is a selection of live recordings from Holland and England (2006-7) which the composer re-edited in a consistent whole this year. During the concerts, Jeck utilized Fidelity record players, Casio SK keyboards, a Behringer mixer and a Sony minidisc. As it usually happens with this kind of composition, repetition and blurred edges are the main constituents of a series of trance-inducing soundscapes whose complexion is spoiled by the scars of distortion and crackle, which PJ exploits as one of the numerous shades to maintain the half-nostalgic, half-scary area that this music generates. Heavenliness is not allowed: we’re talking about the short-lived sensations that one experiences while wandering through the “zone”, that jumble of incomprehensible joy of existing and fear of the future, the unrecognized fuel allowing the so-called sentient beings to go on in their clueless quest towards a non-existent completion, an afterwards where the “after” is missing.