our man millis is a climax golden twin and a noted curator of globe trotting / time traveling esoterica, amongst other accolades. in the former category, millis and jeffery taylor steadily release some of the most headscratching amalgamations of avant-rock, decontextualized temple music, heightened-state minimalism, and collaged field recordings this side of the sun city girls (including the soundtrack to the cult film session nine); and in the latter, millis has published a number of acclaimed anthologies for sublime frequencies (scattered melodies, this world is unreal like a snake in a rope, phi ta khon, the crying princess, etc.) and dust-to-digital (our personal favorite, aptly titled victrola favorites). with his fingers in so many jars of jam, it can seem like an uncommon occurrence for millis to release solo work although he is one to smear his sticky hands all over himself in performance, installation, and collaboration. thus, the helen scarsdale agency is delighted in presenting his latest opus, relief.
a fever dream of blurred harmonics and ethnomusicological spelunking, relief repeatedly returns to variations on a peculiar yet beautifully serpentine drone, whose twinkling acoustic properties meld the hallucinatory mouth-music of the bangladeshi murung people and the curved air hypnosis of terry riley. millis bookends and interrupts his mysterious miasma with comedic interludes snatched from his lauded collection of antique 78s, maudlin piano tone-clusters, and teleported crescendos of spectral ballroom waltzes. more nurse with wound than the caretaker, this polyglot raga-drone of daytime somnambulism and psychedelic slipperiness speaks to the uneasy borders at psychological, cultural, and geophysical states of being. oh, to be a human on this planet.