When I first moved to Georgia, seeking to replicate the Maine wilderness experience, frequent trips to Blood Mountain in the North were my antidote/anecdote, a way of story building, or at least a method to keep a previous narrative running. What forces informed, I'll never know, but my hike time machinations often silently turned with thoughts of a (these days the kids would call it random, and I'm not going to argue the meaning) fretless B.C. Rich Warlock, a guit-spider if ever there was one, and "handmade," and 7-strings, that number a rarity in 1995. I got so far as getting in touch, and the crew seemed intrigued. Why it didn't come to fruition is other projects/life energies/a semblance of practicalities took the helm. I can articulate now that one aspect of my vision is to imagine a music without precedent, or at least without the trappings of enculturation (imagine there's no tempo-no tonal center-no boundaries doo doo doo doo it's not hard if you try). I liken sound harnessing to vocal communication, which is free to go wherever it needs, without linear grids necessarily applied (though choice application of familiar tried-and-trues is helpful in that it is a common reference port)...and part of communication is what is communicated through all the senses in tandem. Ultimately, the Warlock was too iconic and too many expectations would emerge fully formed upon opening its case.