In The TANK:
Some kind of total alteration of the sensibilities happens in that space … your hands collect the pulse of what is there, and what has been there. It’s as though the rhythm takes over Full Body and it is hard to discriminate between your own hands, what they are doing, the hands of other players, and the TANK’s happenstantial treatment of them all.
And the vocal experience is truly astonishing. I remember the first-time feeling of “letting the sound out.” Not only is there a totally pleasant confusion of where it is coming from, but — more so — where it is going, what is going to happen to it, where it lands, and with whom. Eyes closed, I would hear a note on a … keyboard of some kind, maybe? … and all the while I had thought it was me singing. It’s my favorite lesson in that remarkable cavern: It’s all one.
