Each morning my friend Jorge sets off on his rollerblades for a vigorous skate across the lakefront. No day feels complete with it. I asked if he might clip a pair of small mics to his skates and he seemed as interested as I was to listen to what the skates were hearing. Later that morning, in the undusted hallways of the co-op, waiting at the west door for another pal, we were met by an unexpected scatter of piano notes, and a voice practicing opera. It seems we had skated into a past century.

Roller Blade Opera

Sweetness lingers in a storm of soft touches.

42 Other Side of the Page

23 Everybody

Memories collect. TV fragments. Field recordings (steps, fireworks, beeps and buzzers) arrive, many reworked (turned into different songs). He is holding a secret, feeling the pressure of holding it in. But it's someone else who knows what the secret is. Along the way he meets many others, and he looks into their mouths, like a dentist, hoping they will tell him what he can't know.

24 Feelings

Notes heard in the aftermath. The struggle to breathe, and the memories that followed, of carefree crowds, temporarily innocent. A slowed lament and funereal dirge.

MikeHoolboom

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