Preservation, as in the developing world where it is deemed unlimited and absolute, is synonymous with erasure of creative endeavors en masse, whose uselessness has been known ever since Schopenhauer. In the same degree, for any protest it remains existential not to relent, and a jazz divorced from both punk and academic normalities, a jazz invested instead in free improvisation's natural capacity to upset, can do just that. Kidambi's heterodox disposition is, in this regard, measurably successful, for the output seldom falls into the trap of reinstituting mores, that which the bulk of new folk music, A Hawk And A Hacksaw
et al, occasions. Moreover, the societal contour of protest, often undermining Self and solitude of the Self, here is not altogether imposing. In the ending to the title-track, a deflection of a theme introduced earlier partakes enough of this contrast to retrospect an other New Yorker not alien to the question, namely Angelo Badalamenti
, whose suspension of melancholy in the face of the jubilant is one of the rarest achievements in contemporary incidental music. And if one were to get passed the metaphoric reasoning ("modernity") for use of electronics, here and now, the overlap of pre/modern could refine protest and its intimate link with preservation, put forth in the opener"Eat the rich or die starving." What is the plight but to make certain in rallying for the ethnic, the just, and the true, clenched fists do not hide prayer for the hand that feeds.