Listening to Jorge's UVA.MIX_351, a re-mix made up of various works of his

This is a clashing of two continents, a riding up of the tectonic plates over each other – one is precisely notated European new music, the other hot, erupting extemporized – even free – jazz. Under the surface a sax growls, a drum set caressed by brushes laps at the shore. Then out of nowhere the instruments surge – like a big turning up of the electricity supply – and the music goes over into a rabid mix of mood and detail. Behind the jazz sounds' fizzle there is an inner world, a Viennese gloom that understreams the bright, raucous rude sax - the horn as they say - and the prowling drumset.

This inter-tangle passes. Now I can only hear semitones, reaching out for the shaky ladder of intonation. The music is starting to fade down, to loosen itself from the listener's grasp. It quietens to become a wispy, smoky evening, something only slipping through the speaker like a ghost. It is all in recession. There is a retreat from us, the audience, leaving us wary of its stealth and its purpose. Now at the end, the tape is defying the laws of musical endings. Without a wave it has gone, the event is over, the music is out.

Sehn Fruon