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LP
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FTR 781LP
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$27.50
PREORDER
RELEASE DATE: 5/30/2025
"Liz Durette returns with a gorgeous fourth LP (her third for Feeding Tube) and not a moment too soon! With Well Up, Liz delivers a bright and sparkling sonic gem to illuminate our days and nights. Liz is an artist, keyboardist, improviser, and deep thinker based in Massachusetts, after many years in Baltimore. She has created an uncanny body of musical work of keyboard improvisations. Her style strikes me as utterly unique, and this latest album offers an entirely new example of her vision. While her earlier records were often shifting, madcap melodic constructions, Well Up offers another side, in a rich and distilled scope. Here, Liz generates a lush and enchanting sound world of morphing, cycling melodic phrases which gently swirl and pool into three great lakes of beauty. Liz improvised this music on a Midi Polyphonic Expressive keyboard, but the album can't be characterized as a 'synth,' 'ambient' or 'minimal' release. Her employment of multiple voicings of pre-modern sounds like flutes and reeds create a singular headspace that defies easy description. 'Heart' begins the album with serene, mysterious melody that unfolds in elastic and expressive motivic gestures. All of the three songs are built on phrases of simple melodic variation that spiral out of simplicity, slowly and steadily, with subtle layers of increasing ornamentation. The touch sensitivity of Liz's instrument with its parameters of ultra bendy notes spill phrases across the soundstage in delightful patterns. It's a beguiling stew. The second piece, 'Lake' was born from Liz's complete mis-remembering of a Lebanese folk song which transformed itself into this special and hypnotic reverie. I can picture a court of dazzling beings promenading in a splendid choreography as I listen to this track with my eyes closed. You may capture something equally grand in your mind's eye while listening, it's ultra visual music. Side two offers us the side-long opus of 'Naga.' It gradually unfurls and billows into a vast and deep pool of sound that I don't light heartedly describe as cosmic. I can imagine this piece playing on for eternity like some gyroscopic, perpetual motion machine that generates the world's dreamiest tones. The album is another rare example of music that generates a strange emotional response (at least for me), operating in a special region that exists somewhere at the border of joy and sorrow. I can't conjure a word or phrase in English that captures it accurately but I'm sure you'll know it when you hear it. The sounds surely live up to Liz's brilliant and peculiar cover art featuring an exquisitely manicured hand threatening to insert a deep blue push pin into a blazing pink balloon. While Liz has openly expressed having derived inspiration from improvisation and ornamentation across a variety of eastern and western traditions, this work seems to me to be pure Durette. Calm, soothing, novel, exotic, luminous and expansive -- much more could be said or written about this album but the wonderful sounds do a fabulous job of speaking for themselves. Please let them speak to you." --Rob Thomas, 2025
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LP
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FTR 691LP
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"Another splendid album of avant hi-jinx and shreddery from keyboard whiz, Liz Durette. Primordial Soup is her fourth album (first was a cassette), and the second for Feeding Tube. It is the follow-up to 2020's most excellent Delight (FTR 504LP) and heads into somewhat different stylistic turf, whilst maintaining Durette's high levels of keyboard invention. If Delight was created while Liz was thinking about Romantic-era waltzes, then Primordial Soup owes some of its strategic approach to the delicate webs of ornamentation generated by French Baroque composers, as well as certain Eastern scales Liz was pondering. The pieces are all melodic as hell, but Liz describes them as having a 'simpler tonal structure' than her previous albums, even though they employ the Baroque habit of ornamenting the main lines with tangles of filigree. Of course, it sounds nothing like Baroque music per se, but the technical aspects of the style allow her the ability to expand basic themes in a variety of seemingly oblique directions. The music often veers off into other dimensions of there, before returning to the basic threads around which it was built. In this respect, Liz's approach recalls the weirder end of jazz-based solo synth improvisation, where a kind of retro-futurist duality often functions in a similar manner. But it would be wrong to infer that this is a serious sounding album, no matter how rigorous its dream-time infrastructure might appear. There are folkloric passages with inflections that are more in line with flute music from Rajasthan or Myanmar than any known Baroque figures, and the music on Primordial Soup has a taste of the same time-bending/shape-shifting qualities that powered the music of Warner Bros. cartoons. The results may not be as serious as your life, but they're a gas-and-a-half to listen to. So dig right in. The soup is fuckin hot." --Byron Coley, 2023 Edition of 500.
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LP
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FTR 504LP
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"A very whacked new outing from Baltimore keyboard genius Liz Durette. Her earlier albums had a certain avant jazz approach, tempered perhaps by certain new music proclivities. And while I do not doubt she still has the chops for such things, Delight is a horse of an entirely different color. What's here was all done on keyboards, but at times it sounds like insane calliope music for wicked children with a taste for that old waltz beat. The whole first side could be the soundtrack for a surreal film about dead Viennese courtiers high-stepping their way around the Bardo as though it were a hedge maze. The more I listen to the record, the more circular its matrix appears, and the less certain I am of the direction in which gravity is pulling me. No surprise then, to learn that part of Delight's inspiration was drawn from A Genuine Tong Funeral, Gary Burton's amazing '68 LP, comprised of a full set of Carla Bley's wildest early compositions. On the flip, Durette is in a similar fettle, but seems keener on exploring the faux percussive aspects of her 'axe.' This involves the simulation of little people tap dancing on a xylophone, as well as very many other transgressive-if-meditative sonic activities. And they are all done with such flair and attention to detail you really have to wonder what sort of visions Liz has accessed. They seem to exist somewhere between romance and math. The universe of sounds she creates on Delight is wildly complex, but also it appears to operate by a set of congruous rules throughout. Like I said earlier, GENIUS!" --Byron Coley, 2019 Edition of 250.
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