A deep, sonorous, serene and primordially pulsating tonal stream, born from silence and swelling like the Amazon during the rainy season. An airy, ethereal, ephemeral and frailly floating harmonic cloud, descending from the ether and hovering in mid-air like a dragonfly on a sultry summer night. A ritual between a massive wall of texture and a translucent, ghostly tenebrae. A rite of passage, a phenomenon beyond the grasp of logic, rime or reason.

It takes a while to realign your senses: You're in the middle of enigmatically titled "41 52' 50" N, 87 42' 39" W", the opening track off Scott Cortez' and thisquietarmy's "Meridians" and it doesn't sound anything like two Guitar players sending tracks hence and forth on the Internet, but more like a duet for tectonic plates. On this paradigm of monolithic minimalism, the protagonists are drilling straight into meteoric marrow, into a sonic substance of both majestic elementary force and impenetrable granitic density. There is no resolution to this exchange, no untying of the knot: For just under thirteen minutes, the spectral symbiosis between high and low frequencies continues, harmonic and melodic variations forming on top of the subterranean organ point like ice crystals on an endless lake, only to sink back into the lap of quietude and the arms of infinity, back to the place of pure shapes and imagination whence they came from.

Thanks to its impressive restraint and rawness, "Meridians" is undeniably presenting itself as a temporary pinnacle in Eric Quach's passionate efforts of transcending the stereotypical sound and performance techniques of his instrument. In a recording career now spanning eleven releases in a mere five years, it has always been an integral part of his philosophy to regard the Guitar foremost as a suitable tool for realising a personal vision.