
James Joys works in translating slip into rhythm. He makes music that occupies the terrifying, vespertine cleft between sleep and wakefulness; that fleeting realm when time slips from its spools and allows the polyglottal babbling of bilious humors to creep in. Unsettling and seductive, it is the moment that oscillates between clasp and grasp, the calling card of the trickster whose gait harbours an elliptical swing, a nagging lack...a laggard knack. [read more...]