https://youtu.be/o7TvOpTh_Ok

"It began in Big Sur. Fred Frith and I, sitting naked on two small wooden blocks, legs crossed, hands resting on our knees. A small clearing on a rise above the Pacific Ocean, waves pounding a steady beat against the rocks far below. I had arrived at the Zen retreat the previous afternoon and Fred was one of the first people I ran into. I’d met him in more formal situations at Ralph Records, but we had not previously hung out socially. Fred was the current artist-in-residence at Esalen, and had been there nearly six weeks. He’d invited me to join him in an "air bath" the next morning and so here we sat, bathing in the morning sea air. The glow of Fred's skin made me sadly aware of how much time I spent in a windowless studio. I could easily pass for an albino. Fred was not big on talking, so we sat in quiet contemplation. But soon I became aware of a humming sound and realized Fred was singing quietly to himself accompanied by the rhythm of the waves. I whispered, "What are you singing?" He apologized and whispered back that he was making up melodies. I might not have brought clothing with me, but my Walkman was a constant companion and asked if it were okay to record him. He said I could. We grew close over the next couple of days, and when I returned to San Francisco I transferred the waves, the birds, and the singing to a multi-track tape machine and made a collage. Next time Fred came through town I played it for him and we speculated on developing the recordings for some kind of Residents/Frith project. The lyrics followed, then Fred’s compositions. Perhaps a year later in 1991, Fred arrived at the studio armed only with a brand-new Zeta MIDI violin. Surrounding himself with his scribbled notebooks, he played all the parts for all the pieces. I recorded him acoustically, as well as collecting input from each string as MIDI data. Afterwards I spent my spare time for several days assembling and reassembling what I had to work with until I had bu.......
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"It began in Big Sur. Fred Frith and I, sitting naked on two small wooden blocks, legs crossed, hands resting on our knees. A small clearing on a rise above the Pacific Ocean, waves pounding a steady beat against the rocks far below. I had arrived at the Zen retreat the previous afternoon and Fred was one of the first people I ran into. I’d met him in more formal situations at Ralph Records, but we had not previously hung out socially. Fred was the current artist-in-residence at Esalen, and had been there nearly six weeks. He’d invited me to join him in an "air bath" the next morning and so here we sat, bathing in the morning sea air. The glow of Fred's skin made me sadly aware of how much time I spent in a windowless studio. I could easily pass for an albino. Fred was not big on talking, so we sat in quiet contemplation. But soon I became aware of a humming sound and realized Fred was singing quietly to himself accompanied by the rhythm of the waves. I whispered, "What are you singing?" He apologized and whispered back that he was making up melodies. I might not have brought clothing with me, but my Walkman was a constant companion and asked if it were okay to record him. He said I could. We grew close over the next couple of days, and when I returned to San Francisco I transferred the waves, the birds, and the singing to a multi-track tape machine and made a collage. Next time Fred came through town I played it for him and we speculated on developing the recordings for some kind of Residents/Frith project. The lyrics followed, then Fred’s compositions. Perhaps a year later in 1991, Fred arrived at the studio armed only with a brand-new Zeta MIDI violin. Surrounding himself with his scribbled notebooks, he played all the parts for all the pieces. I recorded him acoustically, as well as collecting input from each string as MIDI data. Afterwards I spent my spare time for several days assembling and reassembling what I had to work with until I had bu.......
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