This time around Larry Kucharz – the unforgiving and determined Larry Kucharz – serves a more varied stew than usual. ”Techno Unit 32” is a treat at any barren campsite below any Lapland glacier – on a portable MD-player – and elsewhere too, inside centrally heated apartments on giant sound systems with plenty sub woofer power!

The other night I lay in front of the stereo over in Swedenland with Kucharz playing, while I causally watched Forensic Detectives on Discovery on the cable (sorry about that, Larry). As Larry pumped his entourage well into the farthest reaches of my sub(woofer)conscious and as the forensics marveled at the number of insect generations that had fed on a decomposed corpse, I fell asleep… and I realize the visions I got were from Mr. Kucharz’s rhythms and pitches:
I sensed these dark, shiny steel structures with a lot of speedy movements inside them. I discovered that the shapes I saw were steel-reinforced glass tubes, winding up and down, in and out of the cityscape; the Gotham City maze of crime in progress verses justice in progress.
A warm, heavy ventilation shaft wind blew through the glass tubes, rushing and gushing soft swarms of marsh mellows down the curves of cartoon-like, ominous directions above, through and under the city. As I woke up I checked the CD-player. It was track 8 that opened these magnificent, somewhat frightening outlaw visions to my mind, in a kind of impersonal, anonymous flow of marsh mellows through the night.

I don’t know how my recent hikes below the northern glaciers and the consequent intensity at the Stockhausen Courses in Kürten had prepared my sound mind (which isn’t so sound after all…) for the metrics of boys like Larry Kucharz, but I imagine that both the rock deserts of Lapland and the exploding vitality and ingenuity of Stockhausen would favorably clean out my murky mind, and I do feel extra responsive towards Kucharz’s Mondrian explorations this time, as I keep changing CDs in the player, from Björk to Kucharz to Björk to… whatnot! Yeah, isn’t there a remarkable similarity between the geometrics of Mondrian and the sound world of Larry Kucharz?

The associations to the art of painting aren’t so farfetched after all. Just think of all the inspiration Morton Feldman got from watching the intricate patterns of Persian rugs, or the works of painters like Philip Guston, Mark Rothko and others.

Larry Kucharz is a dancing dervish of post-post times, though, whirling off into the expanding expanses of the Doppler effects, dancing shoulder-to-shoulder with a God that eases off between the galaxy clusters with the collected germ plasm of humanity in a silver thimble.

Gradually the (illusionary?) line between life and the here-after is blurred and finally erased, as the hypnosis of Kucharz’s machinery at play massages your temples and gently elevates you out of your arm-chair, to altitudes with over-views far exceeding the Lapland rock deserts below the glaciers of Nallo.