I DIDN'T MEAN TO INTERRUPT YOUR BEAUTIFUL MOMENT

One of the occasional detours in the greater Kinski discography is an unbroken improvisation exploring the more abstract, ambient side of a sometimes very loud guitar band: 39-continuous minutes of near subliminal tones and drones with no melody, no rhythm, and no apparent form beyond its own amorphous drift.

It's hard to even guess how these sounds were generated...by synthesizers? Guitars? Stray radio interference..? Press the play button, and suddenly we're back in divided Berlin circa 1970, absorbing the noises created by a generation of artists who rejected traditional instruments and arrangements.

At least all the humming and buzzing was organized into complimentary harmonic keys, putting a soothing aura on difficult music resembling the ghostly aftermath of an unspecified industrial accident. At one point an actual (muted) guitar gently condenses out of the ice-cold air, but it's a short-lived moment of grace before the machine kicks abruptly back in gear. The final quarter of the piece is essentially a single inorganic resonance, fading slowly out over 11+ minutes.

Play it loud enough and the album can wreck your mind. But turning the volume down can make it even more insidious. While listening to it for the first time, I mistook the sound of a train passing in the distance as part of the performance: living proof of Brian Eno's theory that ambient music should merge imperceptibly with its environment

The CD was part of the so-called "Modern Containment" subscription series released by Three Lobed Recordings, a small psychedelic record label "largely operated by cats", according to their Bandcamp page. Only 550 physical copies of the album were ever pressed, but you can still hear it on-line, appropriately for music seemingly untouched by human hands.