A glut of interests ferment in the face of the complex of conflicts and fiery magnetism of Music For Dagger and Guitar, an audio-adventure that dwells on a plane penned by Asger Jorn in his radical reconstruction of philosophy and aesthetics, Luck and Chance (Dagger and Guitar). In the spirit of that book, the album’s body is concerned with play and renewal. To that end, Kim Cascone injects chance into the rule and laws into disorder. The slick operation of studio buttons brings about moments of rapid-fire metamorphoses and tonal variation that disturbs the entrancing sodium-lit sounds of nature, while, in yet other places, it is the fluidity and relaxation of the introspective plod of nature that tears the cool lapping phrases and resonant rounded tones away from themselves and turns the work into something more intrusive, agitated and squally. Even though the elements thus know a certain duality in their roles, and though in turn the work changes often, it nevertheless seems the same throughout its duration. Despite the awkward switches in direction, then, the recording sounds whole and complete.

Also owing to this duality, there is a sort of confusion in the stylistic references, which has the effect of reducing their importance, and making this more a matter of sensibility. Both the novelty and the banality of these cacophonous forests and cavernous spaces of sonic bacteria and warm thrums feel almost shockingly intimate and alive, inciting one to respond in a personal way. Cascone states that this is not a travelogue, an exploration of inner space, nor a work that makes a statement or serves any purpose whatsoever. True to this layout, the work does build a certain resistance to the aforementioned. At the same time, its confrontational nature makes these statements sound like challenges, to see whether the disc lives up to them and, if so, what such a music ultimately sounds like.