"Approximating Omega: Text adapted from Gregory Chaitin's 1994 book The Limits Of Mathematics, with samples contributed by: Tomas Cabado, Raven Chacon, Yiannis Christofides, Alan Courtis, John Eagle, Carmina Escobar, Bryan Eubanks, Jacqueline George, Tom Johnson, David Kant, Aj Kluth, Ulrich Krieger, Juan Sebastian Lach Lau, Ingrid Lee, John Lely, Todd Lerew, Heather Lockie, Scott Mclaughlin, Ezequiel Menalled, Ian Mikyska, Pablo Riera, Dean Rosenthal, Karen Santana, James Saunders, Marcus Schmickler, Elliot Simpson, Mark So, Laura Steenberge, Adrian Tenney, Philip Thomas, Samuel Vriezen, Lucie Vitkova, Manfred Werder, Byron Westbrook, Michael Winter And Melike Yersiz Arranged By Aidan Reynolds And Michael Winter For Gregory Chaitin: a realization of a subset of 'omega' (or chaitin's constant): a maximally complex, incomputable number defined as the halting probability for some universal, prefix-free turing machine. the subset of omega used for this realization (given by the bit string on the cover) is presented in the 2002 article by Cristian Calude et al. entitled computing a glimpse of randomness."-Edition Wandelweiser Records

"If you look closely at the above image [CD disc], you'll see a lengthy binary string. This is a subset of a "maximally complex, incomputable number" known as Chaitin's Constant, or "omega", after the mathematician Gregory Chaitin. Michael Winter has used this string, in a manner far beyond my ability to comprehend, as a seed for his piece, "for gregory chaitin", one of two presented here.

The first piece, "approximating omega", runs over 33 minutes and is divided into two fairly equal halves. Underneath it all, there are samples from 36 musicians, many of whose names will be familiar to fans of new music (I even recognized one: a sliver of Tom Johnson's "The Chord Catalog" as played by Samuel Vriezen). Over this, in the first half of the piece, we hear the voice of Muirgen Éléonore Gourgues reading selections from a text by Chaikin, from his book, "The Limits of Mathematics". The text is a set of rules and definitions, not exactly repetitive but self-similar enough to achieve a level of overall sameness. It's spoken flatly, as if done for an audio book and also, to these ears, sounds ever so slightly enhanced or smoothed, generating something of an artificial tinge, though perhaps not. Its boundaries are also often clipped, blipping into existence from brief silences. The sounds beneath vary a good bit, maybe more electronic than otherwise, seeming to roughly correspond to the length of each text section or sentence. Also, somewhere down there, we might be hearing cellist Judith Hamann, who emerges clearly and suddenly during the work's second half. It's a welcome entry, as I was beginning to find the spoken part somewhat tedious. But suddenly, over metallic clangs and tinkles, there's a wonderfully rich bowed cello (or multiple celli, or some other sounds from somewhere) that entirely wash away the classroom and reveal a surging undercurrent, twining and coursing. It flows on with subtle variations (maybe some melodica action?) over shifting sets of metals and electronics, very beautiful, endlessly entrancing. Very much a yin/yang kind of composition.

Not having any idea of exactly how Chaitin's Constant was used in the other work, a solo piano piece with Winter at the keyboard, I can simply listen to the outcome and describe it. I say "solo piano" but there is definitely electronic involvement--the first bright, single note is struck and held, undiminished, for some five minutes, at which point it's joined by a much lower note that is allowed to decay naturally. Subsequent notes, apparently from a prepared piano and perhaps electronically modified themselves appear in a non-obvious pattern, though I suspect the binary array mentioned earlier has something to do with it. That initial note carries throughout and, after five minutes of those lower notes, once again exists as the sole component, a pure tone (although on headphones, my ears pick up subtle variations, maybe just artifacts of my system) that ends with an abrupt *plink*.

An intriguing work and an interesting album overall. I may not be 100% convinced by this particular usage of math-related material, but it's certainly worth a listen and generates curiosity on my part for hearing further work from Winter."-Brian Olewnick, Just Outside