Zuihitsu

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James Coleman proves that the theremin doesn't need to be relegated to novelty covers of classical compositions or spooky chirring from a Venusian landscape in CinemaScope. On 'Zuihitsu' the instrument's trademark quivering sound, along with trumpet, percussion, cello, saxophone, and electronics, connotes an environment that is down to earth and reflective and not the least bit campy.

Coleman hints as how to listen to his CD by quoting a famous guidepost in the liner notes: "The flow of the river is ceaseless and its water is never the same". Although the CD is divided into 15 tracks, it can easily be heard as one 45-minute composition. There are no marked crescendos, no obvious slow points for maximum emotional effect. Various instruments chirp and twitter in multiple conversations, but rarely does one voice rise above the others.

At times 'Zuihitsu' sounds like a soundtrack for an aviary. The theremin serves as the call of a rare bird species, briefly whooping from the confines of some leafy canopy, but careful not to draw too much attention to itself. Ticks on cymbals and short squawks on the saxophone interject into the chatter, but they eventually fall away into the brush. It's an atmosphere that could trick listeners into thinking that the noises were actually slipping in from the outside world. In a sense, 'Zuihitsu' is a tribute to the natural world - a reminder that thoughtful and provoking music can also be found in the cries, yips, and silences occurring in any meadow or stream a few miles away from one's doorstep.