***COLIN POTTER is sitting in a room, different than the one you are in now, and he is piloting that room to the crushing depths of inner space with fellow sound artist PHIL MOULDYCLIFF. The wizards will see you now. Their methods seems so innocent at the outset with the simple layering of a street scene over the sounds of intermission spill-off (or whatever), but the quiet, ambient din of crowd soon becomes a decaying continuo beneath a soft filigree of high-lonesome guitar (?). Then bells and all sorts of micro manipulations follow, building to gelatinous crescendo and subsequent diminuendo. There is a sort of oceanic, Sinking of the Titanic texture coughing up from the underneath, and a deliciously Nursey dynamic in the way tiny rings of feedback propagate out form sonic pebbles thrown in the drink. And, of course, fantastic little discoveries are made with each new pass. This may be what it sounds like when noise goes through the digestive tract. Who knew it would be so damn beautiful?