So beautiful and intimate... Listening to this CD is like wandering through the deserted, half-forgotten roads of America? or the ones that tend to hide deep inside yourself ? as the full title of the album so aptly suggests: "Still Living In the Desert (And Mostly Inside My Own Head)". The songs? A reflection of a man's life, more so, of a particular outlook on life.

The back cover picture gives us a clue. A man stands in front of his van ? a 1982 WV vanagon, to be precise. He is the one responsible for the music contained on this particular recording. I will not give you his full name though. I can only tell you that his first name is Jeffrey and that he used to play Farfisa in Secret Eye-affiliate Urdog.

In front of Jeffrey lay (some of) his instruments of choice: a harmonium, a glockenspiel, a few pedals and a 4-track cassette recorder (let's not forget the presence of his dog Parmalee too). Nevertheless, most of the sounds that run through this CD come from the playing of a slightly modified Indian harmonium which gives the music this particular breathing/ organic quality: a very human approach indeed.

Previous reviews have mentioned Nico, David Tibet or Robert Wyatt as possible references (Jeffrey does a haunted cover of Wyatt's unforgettable "Sea Song" on this album). Yet, the music has its own way of meandering ? As you listen on (track 4 ? "Still Living In The Desert", track 5 ? "I Want To Believe"), it becomes clear that Jeffrey doesn't necessarily need words to express his relationship to the world(s) around him. The music just takes you in? and you start getting all these pictures in your head ? these shape-shifting organ drones being the best companions of all.

Yet, words keep re-emerging here and there. First, in the liner notes. There's a moving quote from Nico, for instance. About how she could feel like an alien to herself in this world. Another clue? Then, there are a few words from Jeffrey too, about the preparation for the journey that (still) lay ahead and which resulted into this particular set of songs. Some personal reflections as well ? about man's quest for truth and a deeper sense of meaning.

Finally, in the music itself ? in some of the slightly more "melodic" (read: concise) settings. In the song "Fruhling der Seele" (track 6), for instance, in which Jeffrey's voice is heard reciting some words in the background. Or in the concluding statement of sorts (as an echo to the Wyatt Song) that constitutes "Desert Song (Where Land and Water Meet)". Of course, there's no real distinction between words and the musical sounds here (see the Humboldt quote in the liner notes): it's more about the expression of one's voice than anything else, really.

And it all culminates in the epic "Numinosity" which ? in addition to its subtle succession of organ variations ? also features an oscillator: another way to reflect upon the fragility of the human presence? Listening to this CD is a fascinating experience ? it's like a diary through sound, each page/ layer gaining more substance as you read on. This is particularly apparent in the way the organ drones may change in volume and intensity (and texture) within a single piece.

Consequently, the music always seems to follow its own train of thoughts? And it's as if Jeffrey could actually CHANNEL the "thinking power" hidden within the sounds he is able to conjure up. Music as a combination of all. Music as a lonely voice pertaining to another sense of belonging. The Song as an opened form ready to be made concrete by a series of related gestures: gestures-words that are actually able to create meaning. Meaning out of the void. 7/10 -- Francois Hubert (4 February, 2008)