ANTELOPER is the electric brain child of JAIMIE BRANCH (fly or die, high life) and JASON NAZARY (little women, helado negro, bear in heaven).
Branch and Nazary have been playing together as trumpeter and drummer for years, since meeting at the New England Conservatory of Music in 2002, but in this duo both musicians include synthesizers to push further into the spectral space ship ether. With deep rhythmic passages, telepathic improvisations and effortless melodic negotiations, Anteloper pushes forward, swinging its horns all the while.
Making audible what is silent, Branch and Nazary punch clouds into audible spacetime. Perspectives shift in weight and wander, sometimes distilled into perfect shots of mystic rum and sometimes left alone in an overgrown petrified aluminum forest, dripping and seething into utopian oblivion. Shifting sequences, sky ships arriving…Turn on the slow cruise and mess with slo deep sound for a time… let the frequency of who YOU are mingle with the mindfulness fullness that Anteloper IS. Multiple dimensions collide and caress like a wooly tiger, kissing suns and embracing the nothingness, cracking this nothingness into sheets of corrugated dreams. The Sometimes is the Always is the Now is the Forever. Backwards, Forwards and Everywhere. Psychotronics in Plus in Minus. The constant sounds hovering just above the peach tree, glistening silver against the dark blue sky evaporate into the orange trunk and feeds us all. Spring is here, and all the stars seem to know. Slow moves to fast… Faster…It feeds itself in a constant tumble and tightrope stagger and roll… and now a handstand… and now the perfect hypnotic pose and shift and wait and hear. Look straight into the eyes. Don’t look away. Listen with eyes closed and don’t move. Simple lines fear nothing. Sound fears nothing. Ecstatic… Electric past, present and future outposts, never in one place only. They build themselves after long years of finding… Always shifting, always still, always in motion whether it happened or not… a moving stillness writhing in its own glorious invisible frame. ‒ Rob Mazurek