Hector and Terry

Hector Qirko may be Knoxville 's most dependable journeyman guitarist--bluesy here, country there, as each appreciative audience requires, but he often offers us glimpses that there's more to him. His latest release finds him on the fringes. The four-tune EP UWP is

actually his last collaboration with guitar genius Terry Hill, who died in late 2002. The work of the two innovative guitarists is so adept that few will presume to pick them apart, and for the listener, there's no need to. The wildly impressionistic, mostly instrumental

opus is a whole. Sit on the floor in the dark and give it a good listen. Three original pieces, "Freedom," "Work," and "Drugs" wash over you like an extravagant dream: they're experimental flights over a solid landscape of R&B rhythms. "Freedom" has a James Brown funk groove with anti-lyrics, an artistic manifesto: a stream-of-consciousness verbal piece that might remind you of much-missed conversations with Terry Hill; its emotion is belied by the fact that it's delivered in an electronic,

stand-back-from-the-car robot voice. "Work" combines jivey acoustic and electric guitar work with ocean sounds. And "Drugs," not surprisingly the wildest piece on the record, is the soundtrack of a luxuriant nightmare laid over a slow drumbeat, with indistinct voices

and a swelling "Ramayana Monkey Chant," credited on the minimal liner notes: a staccato, orgiastic vocal percussion that sounds like white blood cells skittering through your cerebral arteries. If you could only hear them and, maybe, sometimes you can.

"If 6 Was 9," is a worthy tribute to the Hendrix classic, with distorted voices and a surprising, but fitting, jazz-sax solo by Dirk Weddington. It's the kind of music that leaves us with the unsettling suspicion that words, and linear thought in general, is an

oversimplification, and therefore a lie. You'd think that after 40 years we'd have come up with a better word for this sort of music than psychedelic, but there it is.

 

Jack Neely , Metro Pulse