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I found myself out in the gardens’ July sun pencil scratching onto an old receipt. All about friend and improvisational guitarist Tashi Dorji and how wonderful he is and how much I adore his music. Thinking about the time we were jamming and some sound I made on the guitar caused him to outright belly laugh. And some scrawl about the story he once told me, about how the prince of Bhutan had asked him to play some Elvis songs in Thimphu , and Tashi declining the request. Or the countless times that we shared a meal together, or a fire. And how Tashi showed up at my job once, dragging me away because I was overstressed and needed food. “I’m way too hungry to cook now…..and plus, all the food that I have at home would take far too long to make, “ I whined.
He calmly demanded that I list the things I had lying around. Next thing I knew we were eating the most toothsome dish of something so simple. Potatoes, tomatoes, a little oil and some spices. Maybe one more ingredient? His presence and his music is like this too. Bare of pretension yet full of newness and uncompromising inertia. Seemingly quick, sharpened and then mellowed, presenting an intensity to fall into the moment and nourish oneself with the ingredients at hand. Reminiscent of the rythmn experiments of Derek Bailey, the lavish east leanings of Robbie Basho's playing and the intensity of Bill Orcutt's attack. Featuring the artwork of Amy-Moon. Offset printed. -- Dan Beckman
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