KRONOS QUARTET
SUN RINGS TERRY RILEY
TERRY RILEY SUN RINGS
KRONOS QUARTET
(B. 1935)
DAV I D H A R R I N G TO N , violin
(2002)
J O H N S H E R B A , violin
F O R S T R I N G Q U A R T E T, C H O R U S , A N D P R E - R E C O R D E D S P A C E S C A P E S
1. SUN RINGS OVERTURE 2. HERO DANGER
H A N K D U T T, viola (1 : 2 4)
S U N N Y YA N G , cello
(7:15)
3. BEEBOPTERISMO
* W I T H V O LT I , R O B E R T G E A R Y, A R T I S T I C D I R E C T O R
( 7 : 1 4)
4. PLANET ELF SINDOORI 5. EARTH WHISTLERS*
( 7 : 4 8)
(1 0 : 0 5)
6 . E A R T H /J U P I T E R K I S S
(6 : 3 8)
7. THE ELECTRON CYCLOTRON F R E Q U E N C Y P A R L O U R ( 5 : 5 9 ) 8 . P R A Y E R C E N T R A L* 9. VENUS UPSTREAM
(1 6 : 4 4) ( 7 : 1 8)
1 0 . O N E E A R T H , O N E P E O P L E , O N E L O V E
(9 : 0 3)
SOPRANO
K E L LY B A L L O U + , Y U H I A I Z A W A C O M B A T T I ,
SHAUNA FALLIHEE, ANDREA MICH
M E Z Z O - S O P R A N O
L I N D S E Y M C L E N N A N B U R D I C K , E L I Z A B E T H K I M B L E ,
D I A N A P R A Y, C O L B Y S M I T H
KRISTINA BLEHM, MONICA FRAME,
A LT O
RACHEL RUSH, CELESTE WINANT
BEN BARR, WILL BETTS, SAMUEL FAUSTINE,
TENOR
JULIAN KUSNADI
R O D E R I C K L O W E , J E F F E R S O N P A C K E R , T I M S I LV A ,
BA R I TO N E
C O L E T H O M A S O N - R E D U S
J E F F B E N N E T T, S I D N E Y C H E N , P E T E R D E N N I S ,
BASS
PHILIP SAUNDERS
+ SOLOIST
ENVISION TWO YOUNG MEN IN 1964 independently peering into the San Francisco Bay Area night sky. A scientist is listening and a composer, looking. The University of Iowa student of astrophysics happens to be participating in a NASA training program at Stanford University. The U.C. Berkeley–trained composer, pianist, and brilliant improviser has just returned from a sojourn in Paris where he had been playing jazz and fooling around with modular musical forms. Intrigued by the notion that the universe sings, Donald Gurnett had captured sounds in space with a homemade receiver in the backyard of his parents’ Midwest home. He would eventually go on to conduct a lifetime of pioneering research in plasma physics, continuing to learn about the physical nature of the universe from the sounds it makes. On the other hand, the stargazing implement for Terry Riley, who grew up in the foothills of Tahoe National Forest, happened to be a peyote button, revealing the ordering of the stars into a perfect mandala. This became an inspiration for the patterning and sense of universal harmony that led to In C, pioneering musical Minimalism.
When Riley’s and Gurnett’s paths finally did cross nearly four decades later, a local newspaper in Iowa City so confused the radically different pair of visionaries that it ran a picture of Riley—his distinctive shaved head, long gray beard, and Indian dress—with Gurnett’s name under it. The physicist’s friends joked that his newfound interest in music from encountering Riley sure seemed to have changed an unprepossessing Midwestern academic. It was, however, more the other way around. From Gurnett, Riley was given an overpowering new impetus for realizing his early, music-changing mandala insight in his new quartet, Sun Rings, about to have its premiere at the University of Iowa’s Hancher Auditorium. Contemplating the music of the spheres is, of course, a millennia-old pastime that has never gotten old. In this case, it was for Riley an occasion for both inner and outer space discovery. He had spent most of the Seventies as a composer, keyboard player, and educator determinedly moving away from musical notation towards a unique form of semi-improvised composition that embraced Indian raga, jazz, Renaissance vocal music, repetition, and electronic phasing, all in an effort of all-around musical consciousness-raising. But when Kronos Quartet violinist David Harrington twisted his arm into writing a string quartet, an apparition of the beyond—the notion of a collector of all the nightly dreams on Earth—inspired Riley to find his way back to working with a traditional (if groundbreaking) ensemble. The resulting Sunrise of the Planetary Dream Collector in 1980 began an ongoing relationship with Kronos that has led to dozens of string quartets, including the rollicking epic Salome
Dances for Peace and the penetratingly consoling Requiem for Adam. Twenty years after Sunrise, Kronos received a call out of the blue from NASA, which had a small budget for commissioning space-based artwork to mark the 25th anniversary of the launching of Voyager 1. The agency wondered whether the quartet might not like to do a little something with Gurnett’s recordings of the whistling produced by lightning, the bird-like choruses of electrons trapped in the magnetic fields of Earth and Jupiter, and the roaring boom of a solar wind shock wave. Riley was the obvious choice. “NASA’s quest for knowledge and desire to put people where we hadn’t been before,” the composer noted at the time, “seemed strangely familiar.” So, too, did the space sounds, which reminded him of his early work with electronic music and dance. But the 9/11 terrorist attack occurred while composing the new quartet, and Riley says his original, gee-whiz enthusiasm for Sun Rings suddenly felt too much like kid’s stuff, shooting rockets into space at an unsettlingly saber-rattling time. It was only after hearing poet and novelist Alice Walker on the radio recite her September 11 mantra, “One Earth, one people, one love,” that he realized that pondering the universe put the problems on Earth into a needed, interplanetary perspective. By the time of its 2002 premiere, what had originally been a modest, 20-minute string quartet had grown into an epic, evening-length, affirmative event in 10 parts with chorus and visual design by Willie Williams. Seductive as Sun Rings may be in evoking the solar system enhanced
through space imagery, listening to the quartet by itself on recording helps turn our attention to the core of Riley’s vision of Earth in the here and now. The space sounds, themselves, serve scientists by demonstrating that the outer space of our solar system is not a vacuum, since it contains enough plasma for electrical events to move air and be picked up by receivers designed by Gurnett for such spacecraft as Voyagers 1 and 2. Once these sounds are amplified and brought into frequencies our ears can accommodate, however, they do more than provide mere raw, astronomically illuminating data.
We have on Earth but few inanimate sounds—most commonly wind, the ocean’s waves, thunder, and electrons traveling on wires. We furthermore have a tradition of distrust for sounds we cannot hear, such as in the classic dilemma of whether a tree falling in the forest makes a noise if no one is there to hear it. Musicians know otherwise, having long conjured up the forest and the rest of nature. But for Riley, whistlers and the rest of space’s music greatly expand our sense of heard and unheard Nature. Even so, as their titles make apparent, the movements of Sun Rings suggest fancy rather than astronomical spacescapes or, as in Gustav Holst’s The Planets, astrological associations. Riley instead uses all the musical resources at his disposal to respond to and converse with the sounds. His seems an attempt to explain us to them and, in so doing, to gain insight into humanity. This led the composer to another vision: What if instead of terrorists and terrorized alike claiming God on their side, we had “a polyphony of all prayers drifting up”? That became the eighth movement, “Prayer Central,” and the essence of the quartet. Sun Rings begins with exploration, a brief overture hinting at what is in store, planetarily speaking, as swooshes from space and Gurnett’s voice guide an adventurer. For the embarkation in “Hero Danger,” space has a beat into which the quartet enters with drones and an optimistically frisky figure that travels back and forth between the players in playful counterpoint. Mostly, though, space sounds serve as promising background, while a central dirge reminds us that mysteries lurk in the unknown.
What follows is a sequence of interspace interactions as Riley anthropomorphizes other worlds: “Beebopterismo” with its sweet tunes; “Planet Elf Sindoori,” lingering in long melodies. The awe-inspiring vastness of space is conveyed by a chorus chanting in “Earth Whistlers,” singing first in Gujarati, then in English. In “Earth/Jupiter Kiss” we make contact. A violin’s seductive sighs receive whooshing invitations from the Gas Giant spraying perfumed hydrogen and helium. The Bartók-ish scherzo, “The Electron Cyclotron Frequency Parlour,” has the character of a message from Houston, mission control’s high-frequency signaling. In two parts and with a text by Riley, “Prayer Central” is written for six-voice chorus and is the longest of the movements. It begins as though an Indian chant but evolves into a multi-cultural, multi-spiritual, and multistylistic call for peace, reaching the huge climax of the whole work as the chorus proclaims, one syllable at a time, “Now we must learn to de-pend on vast, mo-tion-less thought.” A long interlude for the affirmative space sounds provokes, for the second half, a prayer dance. From there, the high energy of “Venus Upstream” prepares for landing on “One Earth, One People, One Love.” The pre-recorded voice of Alice Walker joins the string quartet in a hymn where space sounds and barking dogs are all the same in our one plasma/peyote universe. —MARK SWED, MARCH 2019
“You have to literally just pinch yourself and ask yourself the question silently: do you really know where you are at this point in time and space, and in reality and in existence? When you look out the window and you’re looking back at the most beautiful star in the heavens—the most beautiful because it’s the one we understand and we know it… We’re home. It’s humanity; it’s people, family, love, life. And besides that, it is beautiful. You see from pole to pole and across oceans and continents. You can watch it turn, and there’s no strings holding it up. And it’s moving in a blackness that is almost beyond conception.”
—EUGENE CERNAN, NASA ASTRONAUT
(APOLLO 10, APOLLO 17 COMMANDER)
IT WAS DURING A RECORDING SESSION with Kronos at Skywalker Ranch that I learned of NASA’s desire to commission a composer to write music celebrating the historic Voyager missions to the planets and outer space. I was surprised, honored, and extremely happy to hear from David Harrington that I was chosen for the task. David had made a trip to Iowa to meet with renowned physicist Donald Gurnett and returned to inform me about the collection of cassette tapes containing sounds Professor Gurnett had collected over the years. These recordings were made on devices Don had invented and placed upon various spacecraft, either orbiters or missions such as the Voyagers 1 and 2 that journeyed to the outer limits of the solar system. I subsequently made the pilgrimage to Donald Gurnett’s office in Iowa City and spent one of the most fascinating and inspiring days of my life with this amazing man. What I expected to be a meeting of an hour or two turned into a day-long adventure ending with a dinner with Don and his delightful wife, Marie. Although the language of physics is way beyond my intellectual grasp, he managed to convey the exciting dynamic of what goes on out
there in our solar system and beyond in a way that set my imagination on fire. I came away from our day together with a box of his cassettes and a huge desire to dig into creating the music that they would subsequently inspire. Around this time, as luck would have it, there was to be a launch of one of the space shuttles at Cape Canaveral. David and I journeyed down to Florida for this event. NASA arranged for us to have a tour of the facilities prior to the launch and we also got to meet some of the astronauts and observe work on the International Space Station. The morning of the launch of the space shuttle, we arose in the dark hours and headed out to the viewing bleachers, which were situated across the marsh a mile or so from the space shuttle, which sat perched on its launch pad. It was surreal in every aspect—David and I in the viewing stand alongside admirals, generals, and high government officials witnessing the awesome thunder of liftoff. On returning home, I began to listen to the cassettes to see what kind of musical elements could be buried deep within the spectrum of their mostly raw, grainy sound. There was a wide variety of sonic textures and frequencies of the different samples, often resembling both natural and synthesized sounds found here on earth. The eerie, graceful glissandi of earth whistlers, for instance, were actually recorded by Don as a youth in the farm fields of Iowa by a device of his invention. At the time I began working on Sun Rings (the title appropriated from a drawing of the visionary Swiss artist, Adolf Wölfli), I soon became aware that many of the sound samples needed to undergo modification to accom-
modate my conception of how they would interface with the sound of the string quartet. I engaged the services of the brilliant young electro-acoustic composer, David Dvorin. David created “kits” of sound samples extracted from the sounds found on the cassettes and neatly organized them into categories that could be used in backing tracks to integrate into the movements I was writing for Kronos. These samples could also be triggered spontaneously by the quartet in live performance. Then 9/11 happened and the project was put on hold for some months while I reflected on the deeper meaning of our place in this mystery. I came to believe that love and compassion had to be a component of our space exploration and had to be reflected in Sun Rings. Shortly after 9/11, I was listening to a broadcast on radio station KPFA in which celebrated author Alice Walker was to introduce a talk by Vietnamese monk and meditation teacher, Thich Nhat Hahn. She said in her introduction that, when 9/11 happened, she braced herself with a mantra that came to her: ...one earth...one people...one love. Hearing this, I had a renewed desire to continue work on Sun Rings in the spirit of the connectivity of all things. I added a choir to two of the movements to represent the voice of humanity in its struggle to understand the meaning of our place in this unfathomable universe, and to maybe suggest that, even with our sophisticated technologies propelling us toward the unknown, we should keep in mind that “all you need is love.” —TERRY RILEY, MAY 2019
T H E S O UNDS O F S PACE AND SU N RING S One of the most memorable events in my scientific career was working with David Harrington and Terry Riley on the Kronos Quartet Sun Rings project. In 1962, shortly after the beginning of the space age, I designed and flew a new type of radio receiver on a University of Iowa spacecraft that could detect audio frequency waves propagating in the ionized gas (plasma) that surrounds Earth. This region is often called the magnetosphere. When we first turned on the instrument, we were astonished by the variety and complexity of the plasma wave sounds that exist in Earth’s magnetosphere. Some of these sounds, called whistlers, had been previously detected on the ground and were known to be caused by atmospheric lightning, whereas for most of the others, the source was completely unknown. Over the many years since these early observations, my group at the University of Iowa has flown similar instruments to almost all of the planets in the solar system, as well as within the hot plasma streaming outward from the Sun called the solar wind. With the Voyager 1 and 2 spacecraft, launched in 1977, we have even flown beyond the solar wind into the vast region between the stars called the interstellar medium. We can now say with reasonable certainty that the entire universe is filled with an astonishing array of plasma wave sounds, some like radio waves and others similar to acoustic waves used in ordinary speech. I call these waves the “sounds of space.” It came as a surprise when, in August 2000, we received a letter from the
Kronos Quartet requesting a meeting to learn more about my “sounds of space.” A couple months later, on October 31, 2000, Kronos’ Artistic Director David Harrington was in my office in Iowa to discuss the contract they had received from NASA to produce a musical production based on the sounds received by our spacecraft plasma wave instruments, especially those on the Voyager 1 and 2 spacecraft. The resulting meeting was one of the most memorable in my life, as it involved a very unusual art-science collaboration between a group of musicians and myself, a scientist who had never played
a musical instrument. However, I apparently had some musical inclinations, because for many years, I had been accumulating a collection of cassette tapes of interesting, sometimes even “musical,” space sounds that I kept in a cardboard box near my desk. I played some of these sounds (available online at space-audio.org) at our meeting. Some examples were “dawn chorus,” “auroral hiss, “electron cyclotron harmonic emissions,” and “electron plasma oscillation.” Of course, as a scientist, I tried to explain how these sounds were produced; however, the discussion soon turned to more philosophical questions: Are these sounds musical? Can nature produce music? We soon concluded that it can, but it is a human that decides if the sounds are “musical.” Some sounds, such as the dawn chorus, which consists of many rising tones, have a distinct musical quality, whereas others, such as the auroral hiss, sound like random noise and are certainly not musical. I also made the point that if we consider only non-animate sounds in Earth’s atmosphere, such as wind blowing through trees or the sound of waves rolling up a beach, space has a much more diverse range of sounds than anything on Earth. To many this is quite surprising, but to me this is not unusual, because in magnetized plasmas, there are dozens of modes of propagation, often called “The Plasma Wave Zoo.” So, it is no wonder that space is such a prolific source of sounds, and that some of these have a musical quality. We also considered whether these “sounds of space” are really sounds in the usual sense, i.e., can we hear them with our ears? The answer is
certainly yes, but with some qualifications. The word “sounds” generally means atmospheric waves with pressure fluctuations. Space is commonly thought of as a vacuum, so there should be no such pressure fluctuations. However, contrary to this common conception, space is not a vacuum. It always has a finite density and temperature: sometimes ionized in the form of a plasma, and sometimes in the form of an electrically neutral gas. Thus, sound waves can indeed propagate in space. In fact, the origin of the universe, the “big bang,” is often described as exciting acoustic oscillations that play a crucial role in the subsequent structure of the expanding universe. If the wave motions in the plasma are mainly due to the ions, they are called “ion acoustic waves,” and if they are mainly due to electrons, they are called “electron plasma oscillations.” There are also types of plasma waves that are like radio waves, but require the presence of a plasma for their existence. These radio-like plasma waves usually have pressure fluctuations, and therefore a sound wave-like quality. Because space plasmas typically have extremely low pressures, it would not be practical to put your head outside of the spacecraft to try to hear these waves. You would die. So I would rephrase the question of whether you can hear these waves as “can you use a very sensitive microphone or other electronics to detect these waves?” The answer is clearly yes. So why, then, do we use electric and magnetic antennas to detect these waves rather than a microphone? The answer has to do with the fact that a plasma consists of electrically charged particles: it is simply easier to detect the electric
and magnetic fields of the plasma waves rather than to use a microphone, which would have to be very large to detect these waves. So after all of these discussions and comments, Kronos engaged composer Terry Riley in 2001 to develop a musical performance, which he called “Sun Rings,” based on Riley’s conception of the sounds of space. This work was first performed to a packed audience by the Kronos Quartet at the University of Iowa’s Hancher Auditorium on October 26, 2002, and has since been performed many times all over the world. It is very fitting that the Sun Rings album is being released into the world as I retire this May 2019 from a lifetime of pioneering work on the study of space plasma waves. I am extremely pleased and honored to be part of this very unique collaboration between the arts and sciences. —DON GURNETT, MAY 2019
I FIRST MET TERRY RILEY when he stopped by our rehearsal at Mills College in the spring of 1979. So began our conversations about music and life. Immediately I felt that Terry had to write for Kronos: our world of music would be more beautifully interesting and complete if this man with the immensely friendly face, generous words, and kind bearing, the composer of In C and Rainbow in Curved Air, would add some of these qualities
to the work of Kronos. Terry probably had no idea how insistent and tenacious I would be, now armed with his phone number. He also probably had no idea that, when meeting him, I kept being reminded of Joseph Haydn, the Viennese composer who first began writing string quartets around 1760. I’d read about Haydn when I was a kid, about his geniality, the way his string quartets were a center of his creativity. I grew up playing his music, and at a certain point as a teenager realized that my true instrument was not the violin, but the string quartet. Feeling this strong connection to the “founder” of the string quartet form when first meeting Terry Riley, I had no choice but to try to bend events in the direction of there being a relationship between Terry and Kronos. Since then, things have always seemed most right to me when Terry is writing a new piece for us. In 2000, Kronos got a call from Bert Ulrich, the curator of the NASA Art Program at the time. His question was: would Kronos be interested in including sounds recorded on the Voyager expeditions in our concerts? I immediately was intrigued and asked to hear these sounds. On hearing these space sounds I instantly knew Terry should be the composer to bring them into our work. Eventually this led us to all sorts of sonic adventures in Don Gurnett’s office. Sometime after September 11, 2001, Terry called to say this new quartet needed a large choir. (He was able to be convinced the quartet did not also need a large dance company.) We eventually settled on a choir combined with video elements, adding to our team of lighting designer Larry Neff and
sound designer Mark Grey. Kronos’ Managing Director Janet Cowperthwaite thought of Willie Williams for visual designer, having seen his staging for U2’s shows, and thought Willie would be the right person to make a vast place intimate. Finally, we had our team—no director, but with every participant bringing their best thoughts to the whole. I remember saying to Terry early on that I loved the community surrounding Sun Rings. For every performance, the local choir reflects something of
each place we perform in. At the end of “Prayer Central,” where each member of the choir is encouraged to speak directly to the universe with hopes and desires in as many different languages as possible, the choir represents all of humanity. And at the beginning of “One Earth, One People, One Love,” when Eugene Cernan offers his unique perspective of appreciation for what we have here on Earth, and later when Alice Walker’s chant comes in, it becomes increasingly clear that Kronos has found its theme song. In Sun Rings, we have a 21st-century work, imbued with the musical generosity of Schubert, positioned as a beacon to light our way. There is no other composer who has added so many new musical words to our vocabulary, words from many corners of the musical world. Terry introduced Kronos to Pandit Pran Nath, Zakir Hussain, Bruce Connor, La Monte Young, Anna Halprin, Hamza El Din, Jon Hassell, Gil Evans, and to his beautiful family: Ann, Colleen, Shahn, and Gyan. I have never once heard him say an unkind word about another musician. In a crazed world laced with violence and destruction, he has consistently been a force for peace. Through his gentle leadership, a path forward has emerged. Terry sets the standard for what it means to be a musician in our time. He is a true pioneering iconic Californian who continually transforms himself as his muse dictates. How wonderful it is to be alive on this planet at the same time as Terry Riley.
—DAVID HARRINGTON, MARCH 2015 AND JUNE 2019
Produced by Judith Sherman
Project Supervisor for Kronos: Reshena Liao
Recorded November 13–15, 2017, at Skywalker Sound, a Lucasfilm Ltd. company, Marin County, California Leslie Ann Jones, Engineer Dann Thompson, Assistant Engineer Jeanne Velonis, Post-production/Editing Assistant Brian Mohr, Technical Assistant Sidney Chen, Session Coordinator
Published by G. Schirmer
Mixed November 30–December 1, 2018, at John Kilgore Sound, New York, New York Mixed by John Kilgore, Judith Sherman, and David Harrington Mastered by Robert C. Ludwig, Gateway Mastering Studios, Portland, Maine Sounds of space courtesy of Dr. Donald A. Gurnett, Department of Physics and Astronomy, The University of Iowa Recorded sound transformation, David Dvorin Recorded voice of Eugene Cernan from the film For All Mankind, courtesy of Al Reinert. Design by Evan Gaffney Design Cover and interior textile art by Joan Morris For Kronos Quartet/Kronos Performing Arts Association: Janet Cowperthwaite, Managing Director; with Mason Dille, Dana Dizon, Sarah Donahue, Scott Fraser, Sasha Hnatkovich, Sara Langlands, Reshena Liao, Nikolás McConnie-Saad, Brian Mohr, Kären Nagy, and Brian Scott
For live performance of Sun Rings: Willie Williams, Visual Design; Laurence Neff, Lighting Design; Mark Grey, Sound Design Janet Cowperthwaite, Producer; Kronos Performing Arts Association, Production Management Brian H. Scott, Lighting Supervisor; Scott Fraser and Brian Mohr, Audio Engineers Laird Rodet, Project Development; Don Gurnett, Project Advisor; Mark Logue, Associate Video Director; Sidney Chen, Artistic Administrator/ Chorus Liaison
Gurnett, John Kilgore, Kathy Kurth, Josef Parvizi, Ann Riley, Judith Sherman, Bert Ulrich, and Willie Williams; Regan Harrington; Mizue, Holland, and Jason Sherba; Greg Dubinsky; and Frédéric Rosselet. We would also like to thank all of the members of our extended Kronos family: composers, performers, artistic collaborators, management staff and board members (past and present), technical staff, donors, funders, presenters, and the adventurous listeners and audience members who have supported Sun Rings since its inception.
Photography: Terry Riley and Donald Gurnett at The University of Iowa (2002, courtesy of KPAA); Plasma wave recording as Voyager 2 approached Jupiter on July 2, 1979 (courtesy of The University of Iowa); David Harrington and Terry Riley at Zellerbach Hall, UC Berkeley (2013, photo by Lenny Gonzalez); Leslie Ann Jones, David Harrington, Sunny Yang, Terry Riley, Judith Sherman, John Sherba, Dann Thompson, and Hank Dutt at Skywalker Sound, Marin County (2017, photo by Lenny Gonzalez); Judith Sherman at Skywalker Sound, Marin County (2017, photo by Lenny Gonzalez); Kronos Quartet performing Sun Rings in Krakow, Poland (2014, photo by Wojciech Wandzel).
Sun Rings was commissioned for the Kronos Quartet by the NASA Art Program, the National Endowment for the Arts, The Rockefeller Foundation’s MultiArts Production Fund, Hancher Auditorium/The University of Iowa, Society for the Performing Arts, Eclectic Orange Festival/Philharmonic Society of Orange County, SFJAZZ, Barbican, London, U.K., University of Texas Performing Arts Center, Austin (with the support of the Topfer Endowment for Performing Arts), and the Brooklyn Academy of Music. Additional contributions from Stephen K. Cassidy, Margaret Lyon, Greg G. Minshall, and David A. and Evelyne T. Lennette made this work possible. With appreciation to Alice Walker for her words: “One Earth, One People, One Love” Kronos Quartet extends special thanks to Terry Riley; Bob Hurwitz, David Bither, Karina Beznicki, Arthur Moorhead, Christine Im, and everyone at Nonesuch; Wally Chappell, Mark Grey, Donald and Marie
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