Philip Jeck is a different kind of turntablist. Rather than using rapid cutting and scratching to demonstrate his manual dexterity, Jeck uses multiple (over 100 at one award-winning performance) antiquated record players, carefully layering old, scratchy records that he modifies to play looping patterns. Much is left to chance: these dusty, popping loops combine in an ever-shifting landscape of aleatory rhythms and lurching drones. Just as important as the sounds of the recordings themselves are the skittering microrhythms created by scratches and years of accumulated grit. The listener's attention shifts from the foreground of this "analogue glitch", to the background of faded memories embodied in these worn grooves. Indeed, this music often has a nostalgic feel; like listening to a stack of obscure 45's found in a basement. But this cd is far from a mere pastiche of the history of recorded music. Jeck is no Postmodernist: the associations that his source material occasionally calls up are secondary to these loops as SOUND MATERIAL. The flashes of possible recognition are the dreamlife of these sounds as material reality. What we ultimately have here is an album of exemplary ambient/drone/glitch that out-does most computer generated post-Oval stutter (i.e. Stephan Mathieu, Nobakuza Takemura, Jim O'Rourke's recent Mego release), in terms of both creativity and emotional impact. Highly recommended, but for the real creme de Jeck, hunt down his "Vinyl Coda" cds.