In his liner notes, Cul De Sac founder Glenn Jones describes what it was like to work with legendary guitarist John Fahey after years of worshipping him and his music. The epiphany to which the title of their album refers is that working together turned out to be a pain in the ass. But initial setbacks, particularly tensions among the players, didn't stop them, and The Epiphany Of Glenn Jones stands as monument to perseverance. As instrumental albums go, Epiphany possesses an ambient sound second in sparseness only to Fahey's recent City Of Refuge. As with City, every note here conveys a boundless wealth of emotion, traversing desolation, remorse, exuberance, and more, without unpleasantly sudden jumps between tracks. Despite the prevalent sparseness, or perhaps because of it, no sound goes unnoticed or unappreciated. Fahey's somber acoustic guitar is augmented by electronic effects, muted cymbal crashes, electric guitars, and even, on one track, an assortment of dry beans being dropped into glass bowls of varying sizes. The surprising thing about The Epiphany Of Glenn Jones is that it is the sound of artists giving up on planned material and succumbing to chance. Instead of coming off like a group of tunnelvision-afflicted artistic twerps jerking off on tape, Epiphany showcases artists who can successfully experiment in the studio. The album is a work of brilliance, and a credit to both the artists who made it and the label with the guts to back such a decidedly risky venture.

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