木曜日の夜

This guy wields a saxophone the same way a lone gunman wields a submachine gun facing impending doom in the wake of overwhelming numbers. It's a shakey performance, but not because of inexperience, but because of fear. He sprays and prays, hoping for something to land across. He knows he won't get them all, and eventually someone will get him, that's the mathematical gist of it, so he closes his eyes and begins 50 minutes of passionate and improvisational sax playing I can only describe as screams of agony as a soldier lives his final moments.

And then the gun falls silent, and all you're left with is darkness and the impression this album made on you.