When evaluating music, we are often conditioned by quantity. It’s well known that, especially in improvisation, musicians’ performances or recordings are an overdose of listening, and the misinterpretation that comes from this is that they are relentless or verbose repetitions. The flaw, if anything, lies in the impossibility of re-listening, because in the meantime the record label has changed its face or closed down, and there isn’t a sufficient circulation to fuel a private purchasing market. Take, for example, the case of Liz Allbee (b. 1976), an excellent trumpeter originally from Vermont, whose discography from 2005 to 2014 on Resipiscent, a San Francisco label, is no longer available. Resipiscent’s motto read: “…unburying criminally obscure electroacoustic, noise, freak, and metal. Difficult listening and absurd viewing. ‘Resipiscent’ means a
