Rupp–Rößler–Hall - self-titled (audiosemantics, 2025)

By Martin Schray

Rupp-Rößler-Hall is a purely acoustic project with musicians from the Berlin Echtzeitscene, consisting of a veteran of the free improvisation community, guitarist Olaf Rupp, Australian drummer and percussionist Samuel Hall and double bassist Isabel Rößler. The most important characteristic of the project’s music is not to differentiate between backing band (drums and bass) and solo instrument (in this case the guitar); the individual voices should be equal and on an equal footing. Rupp plays acoustic guitar here, but his technique is strongly based on his playing on electric guitar. This means that there are many of his typical harmonics, flamenco-like chords and Phrygian cadences, which he likes to merge into a seemingly atonal chaos. All three musicians tug at their strings, extended playing techniques are used and the instruments are plowed in all possible ways. The whole thing gurgles, grinds, echoes and threatens to fall apart again and again - but this never happens. In this way, sound textures and structures are created and fanned out, as the flow of the music is very purposefully controlled. Samuel Hall’s contribution is reminiscent of Tony Oxley’s playing and that of Paul Lovens on their recordings with Cecil Taylor. Ultra-fast and high-pitched, yet very precise. Isabel Rößler’s bass is very powerful and massive, she can be very loud and knows how to hold her own against her partners in crime. Joëlle Léandre and Barry Guy shine through here again and again in a very pleasant way.

Especially in the first piece, “Die schlichte Freuden der Armen”, it becomes clear how well coordinated the tonal surfaces are; the whole thing never becomes too pleasant, but is always roughened and bulky. Obviously the music also serves as a commentary on our difficult times, because the titles of the pieces (translated they mean “The simple joys of the poor“, “All the heavy sand here is language, deposited by wind and tide“ and “Darkness is in our souls, don't you think?“) point to a gloomy atmosphere.

All in all, a nice collection of three fragments, hopefully there will be more to hear from this trio soon.

Rupp-Rößler-Hallis available on vinyl (as a 7-inch) and as a download.

You can listen to the music and here:

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Pascal Niggenkemper's Tuvalu Ensemble

The German-French bassist Pascal Niggenkemper, together with his international Tuvalu Ensemble - Elisabeth Coudoux (cello), Ben La Mar Gay (trumpet), Louis Laurain (trumpet), Mona Matbou Riahi (clarinet), Joachim Badenhorst (clarinet), Tizia Zimmermann (accordion), Artemis Vavatsika (accordion), Jaumes Privat (spoken word) - developed and rehearsed the composition “d'une rive à l'autre” (from one shore to the other) at the SWR Studios in Baden-Baden.

Inspired by texts and poems in German, French, Flemish, Greek, English, Farsi and Occitan, Niggenkemper and his ensemble took listeners on a musical, lyrical and scenic journey to Tuvalu. The South Sea archipelago is symbolized in his composition by various sound curtains distributed throughout the room. The poems are each dedicated to an island and one of the ensemble members. The instrumental octet is made up of two identical quartets. The result is a tapestry of sound from which colors, patterns, melodies and improvisations spring.

 

- Martin Schray

 

 

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William Parker/Hugo Costa/Philipp Ernsting - Pulsar (NoBusiness, 2024)

By Ken Blanchard

William Parker is one of the main reasons I began listening to free jazz. His early recordings ( The Peach Orchard ‘98, Mayor of Punkville ’99, and O’Neal’s Porch ’00, to name only three) were like nothing I had ever heard. I couldn’t get enough. He might be the most consistently brilliant composer/improvisor in the free jazz kosmos. He is blessedly one of the most prolific.

Pulsar documents Parker with Hugo Costa on alto sax and Philipp Ernsting on drums. The title cut opens with Parker’s double bass laying down a bit of structure for Costa and Ernsting to get a grip on. The tendency in any small group featuring a saxophone is for the music to be all about the horn. For maybe the first three minutes you think that might happen; but the bass quickly speaks up. Parker deploys his bow briefly, about 2 minutes shy of the middle. Ernsting’s percussion begins by adding delicate but exquisite accents to the main themes elaborated by Parker and Costa. Both horn and bass produce lyrical, almost romantic novellas. Somewhere near the middle, my inner ears formed an image of Costa’s sax as an exquisite piece of sculpture traveling down a rolling conveyor belt. Brief moments of dialogue between Ernsting’s drums and Parker’s increasingly percussive bass display an amazing degree of control over the balance of the sounds. This track is worth twice what the recording costs.

I don’t know what Fogo em Escalada means. Google translate seems to think it is Brazilian Portuguese for Climbing Fire. Okay. It opens with a signature Parker melody, three and then four evocative notes repeated. Here the image seems more that of a stately grandfather clock than fire. The alto sax is more subdued and gives a precious levity to the progression.

The last cut, “Words of Freedom” opens with a frenetic triangular exchange between Ernsting, Costa, and Parker, now on a horn (I think!). Perhaps someone with a better educated ear can confirm the instrument. Later in the piece Parker switches to flute. If you are in the mood for a higher energy engagement, this will be your favorite part of the album. Only toward the end does the intensity subside.

I is a fine piece of Free Jazz. If you enjoy it, you might check out Costa and Ernsting on their duo album The Art of Crashing (New Wave of Jazz 2022). As you would expect, it gives the drummer’s virtuosity a chance to take center stage. Highly recommended.

Totally Random Suggestion File: Mal Waldron Quintet - Seagulls of Kristiansund (Soul Note, 1987). Lush, romantic bop to cleanse your pallet.

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Dikeman, Hong, Lumley, Warelis - Old Adam on Turtle Island (Relative Pitch Records, 2025)

By Don Phipps

The music created on Old Adam on Turtle Island by four skillful musicians – John Dikeman on tenor sax, Marta Warelis on piano, Aaron Lumley on bass, and Sun-Mi Hong on drums – offers plenty of heat interspersed with abstractions and quiet solemn passages. According to Dikeman, the music is, at its heart, a reflection of the horrible legacy of colonization, and how religion can lead to transcendence or tyranny (or perhaps both at the same time?).

Recorded in November 2022 at Amsterdam’s Splendor (an art space which hosts meetings, musical events, and offers artists a workspace and musical laboratory - it recently announced a “Jazzclub” as part of its offerings), Old Adam on Turtle Island covers seven Dikeman compositions over two tracks – four in the first set (“The Rev - Descent - Choral - Let's Try”) and three in the second (“Groove - Choral – Manifest”). Each track is a medley of free form development across a loose architecture, and in these compositions, the musicians generate their own intense and technically demanding variations and embellishments, creating swirling atmospheric whirlwinds and tunnels of sound.

While the two cuts cover a range of human feeling and thought processes, the second has slightly more dramatic and emotional heft, with its “camel crossing desert” opening and its spiritual and sorrowful winddown. However, each track features incredible passages that allow the musicians to create meaningful contributions. Dikeman’s sax voicings burn upward and outward – his wails, legato notes, and slurry runs generate intense arcs and dark moods. At the end of track 2, listen to how he responds to Lumley’s lines, like a kite tethered yet free to whip about in the high wind and rain, loose and unconstrained. Warelis provides pronounced Cecil Taylor-like rambles and clusters of dissonance - at times she even whisks her fingers up and down the inside of the piano. Lumley supplies a precise combination of plucking and bowing; his motifs vacillate between scratchy effects and notes that traverse odd yet fascinating intervals. Hong adds full trap set sonic riptides as well as timely colorful cymbal splashes.

When listening to the dense sonorities and cerebral soundscapes of Old Adam on Turtle Island, it may be helpful to remember that murky and somber anguish will always be a part of reconciling sinister human nature (Old Adam) and its effect on “Turtle Island,” the indigenous expression for the Earth.

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Onilu (Joe Chambers, Kevin Diehl, Chad Taylor) – Onilu (Eremite Records, 2025)

By Stuart Broomer

I first listened to Onilu on Blue Monday, January 20^th, 2025, the most depressing day of the year, at least according to a notion invented by a British travel company a few years ago. In Toronto, the high temperature for the day was -6° Celsius, the low -11°. There was some snow and an Arctic chill coming from the North. There was a different chill coming across Lake Ontario from the South. Fortunately, Canada had just ended a mail strike, so there was new music in the house: Onilu immediately warmed things up.

“Onilu” is a Yoruba word for drummers and the band consists of three percussionists from three generations: Joe Chambers, Chad Taylor and Kevin Diehl. They’re best known as drummers, but percussion here extends to keyboards as well – pianos, vibraphones and marimbas, crucial melodic components in this invocation of African music. There are also “ideophones” (“an instrument the whole of which vibrates to produce a sound when struck, shaken, or scraped, such as a bell, gong, or rattle,” OED).

The credits are expansive: Joe Chambers plays conga, drum kit, idiophones, marimba, shakere and vibraphone; Kevin Diehl, batá drums, cajóns, drum kit, electro-acoustic drum kit , Guagua and shakere; Chad Taylor: alfaia, clave, clay drums, drum kit, mbira, marimba, piano, tongue drum, tympani and vibraphone. Tracking down descriptions of some of those instruments might resemble work, but listening to Onilu is an extraordinary pleasure, a world of resonant instruments that seem to vibrate, shimmer and transmit light, sounds that might suggest a waterfall of fire, something both benign and impossible. Here one feels the materiality of instruments, and the processes of their making, whether from steel, wood, clay or skin.

The eight tracks, ranging from 4’32” to 7’25”, are mostly compositions on traditional patterns by one or two members of the band. The exceptions will immediately suggest the trio’s range. “Nyamaropa”, with mbira (“thumb piano”) played beautifully by Taylor, is an ancient melody that appeared on an extraordinary collection in Nonesuch’s series of field recordings over fifty years ago: The Soul of Mbira: Traditions of the Shona People of Rhodesia by Paul Berliner, most recently available on CD as Zimbabwe: Soul of Mbira. At the opposite pole is Bobby Hutcherson’s “Same Shame”, with Chambers (who played drums on the original 1968 recording) turning to vibraphone, Diehl on drum kit and Taylor on tympani.

The same levels of virtuosity and flexibility manifest themselves in different ways on every track. On the Diehl/Taylor composed “Estuary Stew”, the group stretches instrumentation to have Chambers on ideophones, Diehl on batá drums and electro-acoustic drum kit, and Taylor on marimba, creating a complex mix of acoustic resonances and electronics. Taylor’s “Mainz” (previously recorded in two different versions by Jeff Parker) is particularly tuneful, with Chambers on marimba, Diehl on drum kit and Taylor on piano and drum kit. For sheer rhythmic energy and complexity, there’s “A Meta Onilu”, with everyone playing drum kits, Chambers adding vibraphone and Taylor, mbira.

Onilu is consistently declarative work, emotionally open, sonically generous, three masters of different generations celebrating a shared musical passion.

Onilu is available at https://eremiterecords.bandcamp.com/album/onilu

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Andrea Giordano - Àlea (Sofa, 2024)

By Ferruccio Martinotti

The equation is error proof: vision + ideas + courage = a record that deserved to rotate on our turntable. Endless are the combinations and one of those is certainly represented by Alea, the work of Andrea Giordano, subject matter of this review. 

Giordano, born in 1995, is an experimental musician, singer and composer from Cuneo, Italy, who after the degree at Siena Jazz University went on with a master in jazz and performance at the Norwegian Academy of Music, where she was a student of Sidsel Endresen and where she is currently pursuing a bachelor in composition. Alea, a suite for large mixed ensemble in which Giordano also performs as vocalist and multi-instrumentalist, is the heartfelt tribute the her friend and mentor, the italian jazz musician and pedagogue Alessandro Giachero, who died unexpectedly in 2020, dating from the start of the master degree in Oslo, where she began to develop songs towards an album of ensemble music. As per the constituents, she opted for a mix of instruments with similar sounds and timbres that could blend seamlessly. 

Giordano said on Bandcamp that the tracks, recorded separately at the Norwegian Academy of Music in 2022 and assembled later, are like separate rooms (“stansias”) within the same house, each as an individual expression of tension, repetition and ceremony. Dissonances, fragmented cyclical motives and laments are rendering overwhelming the dimension of grief and sorrow, along with shamanic, Native American-like chants that seem sometimes to exorcise the immeasurable pain. Crucial to the project is Giordano’s ongoing research into the Piedmontese dialect, a Gallo-Romance language primarily spoken in the Italian northwest region of Piedmont, that is endemic to her native city of Cuneo. She had previously sung librettos of poetry in the predominant Piedmontese dialect, a process she describes as “an attempt to be honest with my roots” and for this record she commissioned Vieri Cervelli Montel, a composer and friend of both Giordano and Giachero, to write lyrics in italian that she and Montel then translated together into her hometown dialect based on her interviews with scholars and family. The result has much more to do with the musicality of the words than with their semantic, as Giordano is delivering them in a way totally devoted at the sole service of the sonic architecture of her work, reminding us sometimes even the lyricism of Bjork and the great Elizabeth Frazer. 

The album’s title has tripartite origins: it is a reference to the Italian for “to Alessandro,” a nod to the aleatoric nature of his death and an epithet of the Greek goddess Athena. The ensemble sees: Andrea Giordano: compositions, voice, organetto; Alessandra Rombolà: flutes; Cosimo Fiaschi: soprano saxophone; Ferdinand Schwarz: trumpet; Joel Ring: cello; Kalle Moberg: accordion; Emanuele Guadagno: guitar; Lara Macrì: harp; Ingrid Hjerpseth: organ; Christian Meaas Svendsen: double bass; Nicholas Remondino: percussion and gran cassa; Ingar Zach: percussion, gran cassa and vibrating membranes. We look forward to see Giordano’s next move.

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Catching up with Impakt Records: Part II

By Nick Ostrum

Impakt Records is a label dedicated to documenting Cologne’s free improvisation scene, much of which revolves around the club Loft Köln. The imprint has been in operation since 2016, and, since those early days, has accumulated nearly 40 releases. In a two-part series, I review the five released in 2024 and so far in 2025.(See part one here)

Sylvain Monchocé and Daniel Studer – Duo (Impakt, 2024) 

Although rare combinations are becoming increasingly common in free improv, I have not encountered many, or maybe even a single, other gayageum-bass combo. Leave it to Daniel Studer, who has released a string of boundary-pushing releases over the years, to partake in such an experiment. His partner on this recording, Sylvain Monchocé, is new to me, though admittedly I am familiar with few other gayageum players apart from DoYeon Kim.

The music on the modestly titled Duois measured but powerful. Studer lays into his rubbings, stabs and fat-snap pizzicato, but also holds tones, which allows Monchocé space to scrape and strain his strings. I am not sure what traditional gayageum technique is, but Monchocé seems to be stretching that beyond its limits, offering no melodies and few crisp notes (Sixth Dialog being an exception for both musicians), but (figuratively) turning his instrument on its head, much as Studer does to his bass. Sometimes this results in harsh but beautiful moments of convergence, such as four minutes into the Fourth Dialogue. Even then, however, the instruments remain separate. I rarely mistake one for the other even among all the muted pizzicato, scrapes, various contortions, and other opportunities for the strings to blend. Instead, the timbres balance one another. I am not sure I am surprised, but Duois certainly a unique but wonderfully complementary pairing that shuns the classical European and Korean idioms in pursuit of non-traditional, denationalized, and particularly fertile common ground.

T.ON – T.ON Meets Sarah Davachi (Impakt, 2024) 

Recorded at the church/gallery/concert hall Kunst-Station Sankt Peter Köln, T.ON meets Sarah Davachi captures the trio of Matthias Muche (trombone), Constantin Herzog (double bass) and Etienne Nillesen (snare drum) in collaboration with the wonderful, and wonderfully patient, organist Sarah Davachi. The former have appeared on Impakt releases numerous times in various combinations. Canadian-turned-Angelino Sarah Davachi is quite active in the modern classical scene and has 30-some releases under her belt.

Meets Sarah Davachiconsists of one track of wonderful long drones, layering, entwining, enveloping and subduing each other. This makes sense with Much, Herzog and Davachi, but Nillesen must be in there somewhere. It seems he uses his snare more for reverb or subtle rubbings than anything conventional. The result is a cauldron of hollow, harrowing sounds of overlapping tones, wind and friction. What distinguish Meets Sarah Davachi are the fine variations, the subtle gurgles and pitch oscillations, the implications but absence of synthesized sound, and the skillful, patient and generally monodirectional development of the composition. This is insistent and exciting music, precisely because of its fine shades of monochrome. A dramatic downturn in the last couple minutes, moreover, reveals the space of the church, as the organ gives way to bird sounds, soft scrapes, and vaulted reverberation and tonal decay. This, of course, only adds to the mystery of it all.

Marlies Debacker and Salim(a) Javaid – Convolution (Impakt, 2024) 

Convolution is a duo between Belgian pianist Marlies Debacker (here also on clavinet) and Pakistani-Czech saxophonist Salim(a) Javaid, both of whom have worked for significant periods in Köln, most notably in the augmented contemporary chamber trio Trio Abstrakt. Given their history of collaboration, one would expect strong communication and responsivity. And, well, this album delivers on those fronts.

From the first notes, then silences, one gets a sense this will be an intimate and patient affair. Debacker plays soft, enigmatic tones likely elicited from playing inside the piano and Javaid whisps in reply. Both musicians exercise masterful control of their instruments, likely derived from their contemporary classical backgrounds. Although these compositions (three by Javaid, two by Debacker) would fit in such a setting – the sparsity allows for resonance that would shine beautifully in a proper concert hall – they also wend and surprise enough to point to influences from the freer musics, less jazz than free improv and contemporary extended-technique experimentation. Maybe this blending and blurring is what the album title and the track Convulted, one of the busiest on the album, reference. The latter roils and gurgles with the best of that non-idiomatic European tradition. Compulsive, the following track, consists of harsh, contorted swipes over a piano that veers from Schoenberg to Jacques Demierre to who knows where. Amplfied, one of two live tracks, transitions from Debacker rubbing her piano strings to a series of glissando striations backed by fuzzy, heavy chords to a near blow-out. Dusky, the concluding piece, consists of long piano chords and saxophone tones, possibly augmented and elongated by electronic manipulations, or just expertly rendered acoustically.

Convolutionis unassuming and understated, but entirely captivating in its technique, concentration, and emotion. Simply (but quietly) put: wow.

With that, we are all caught up. All releases are available on CD and as downloads at Bandcamp via the links above.

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Catching up with Impakt Records: Part I

By Nick Ostrum

Impakt Records is a label dedicated to documenting Cologne’s free improvisation scene, much of which revolves around the club Loft Köln. The imprint has been in operation since 2016, and, since those early days, has accumulated nearly 40 releases. In a two-part series, I will review the five released in 2024 and so far in 2025.

Simon Rummel On Water Orchestra – Der Zauberlehrling (Impakt, 2025) 

Der Zauberlehrling (English: the sorcerer’s apprentice) is German composer Simon Rummel’s first release as leader on Impakt. The On Water Orchestra he has gathered is a 34-musician strong ensemble of musicians who deploy instruments ranging from the conventional (clarinet, trumpet, various strings) to, in the orchestral world, the unconventional (accordion, recorders, glass harmonica.)

The first composition, the titular 'Der Zauberlehrling', starts slowly but soon gives way to a jumble of long high-pitched tones that wafts and waxes, in the process revealing various textures and timbral variants. At certain peaking moments, it sounds as if one of the glass harmonicas (I think) is going to break into the upper reaches of Morten Laurdisen’s 'O Magnum Mysterium' but the drone quickly pulls any valancing strands back. A close listen reveals subtle pitch changes, but nothing that distracts from the forward-moving hum. Then, after several minutes, the various elements begin to distinguish themselves, not necessarily into easily identifiable instruments but discrete units, which take over the charge propelling the drone forward. This very much sounds like an exercise in building and harnessing energy, with stray musical electrons shedding here and there but the continued gradual surge forming the unifying element. Shimmering, engrossing, and hauntingly gorgeous.

Much of the same could be said for the next piece, 'Musik für den Lehrling des Zauberlehrlings' (music for the apprentice of the sorcerer’s apprentice), though the drone here quickly gives way to flights of clustered melodies, pulses of sound, and an interesting reinterpretation of more traditional compositional structures. Whereas the first piece enchants with its patience, this one moves, periodically opening into truly radiant passages and often bobbing just beneath that. Maybe this composition is the more sprightly study for the less experienced apprentice’s apprentice before they get to the disciplined practice that the sorcerer’s apprentice (rather than the sorcerer’s apprentice’s apprentice) must go through. One is left to wonder whether the sorcerer’s own piece would be even more focused and sparing than the first composition, or if by then the lesson is learned, and he would be free to explore new structures of rival splendor. 

Stefan Schönegg - Enso: On the withered tree a flower blooms (Impakt, 2024)

Impakt’s final release of 2024 was Stefan Schönegg’s Enso: On the withered tree a flower blooms. (The title itself is a fitting if optimistic tribute to what in terms of politics and warfare, at least, was an abysmal year for many.) On it, pianist Marlies Debacker (see 'Convolution' below) and drummer Etienne Nillesen, here solely on snare, join bassist Schönegg in a 44’ realization of his composition referenced in the title. Schönegg and Nillesen have released several albums of the former’s compositions in his Enso project. Debacker joined them, it seems, for the first time on the previous release, 2023’s Enso: A Simplified Space.

The base of Enso: On the withered tree a flower blooms is a heavy ribbon of oscillating drones provided firstly by Schönegg’s arco, but also a background of mellitic churning that seems to come from either internal piano or drum and cymbal bowing, and more likely both. The various drones fade in and out, though Schönegg’s bass is the insistent trunk to a tree otherwise limp. To extend the metaphor, it is this continued repository of life on which the flowers – the twangs of resonance, whatever is going on with the percussion and piano – bloom. The analogy is imperfect. Twenty-eight minutes in Schönegg hands the leadership to what sounds like a soft organ, which picks up the tone as the bass ceases. Slowly other glimmering sounds enter, as well. But, then comes the bass again, playing lower than before and adding a different vibrational wavelength that seems to quietly ring Nillesen’s cymbals. That is, unless Nillesen himself is performing this delicate task.

I swear I hear electronics in this piece, but I have been assured all this acoustic. In that, all the more power to Schönegg, Deback, and Nillesen. This piece shows incredible control in its strange and patient sonic layers and fusions, and in that it also shows an attractive vision of music that pushes the listener to confront the mutually constitutive dialectic between stasis and movement, convention and perception, and deterioration and blossoming.

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Sarter Kit - Time Got Relative

German saxophonist Tara Sarter's video for her song 'Time Got Relative' features a cat driving around endlessly in a parking garage. It somehow does a nice job of capturing the mood of the circuitous and jaunty tune. When the cat makes it out, there is a palpable sense of relief.

The track is the latest cut from Sarter's upcoming debut album What I am and What I’m Not, with
Elias Stemeseder on piano and synths and Lukas Akintaya on drums.

 

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Benjamin Lackner - Spindrift (ECM, 2025)

By Don Phipps

The set of exquisite tone poems found on pianist and composer Benjamin Lackner’s album Spindrift create pastel colors and the hazy ambience of autumn in a cloud-shrouded forest. The subtle lines and development that give life to this introspective outing can be found in the soft, poignant, and graceful readings of Lackner, trumpeter Mathias Eick and tenor sax player Mark Turner. And the sympathetic rhythm section of bassist Linda May Han Oh and drummer Matthieu Chazarenc provide a solid yet buoyant bottom. The effect – a respite from the turbulence and combustion of an unsettled world.

Lackner wrote all but one of the pieces that grace the album (the exception being Chazrenc’s “Chambary”), and each of them highlight unhurried atmospheres, like breathing deep while viewing a panorama from a mountain ridge. Each song seems to reflect a natural setting. For example, the title cut “Spindrift” moves like a raft along a slow river current. Or the early morning mysterious quality of “Mosquito Flats.” Or the rocky musical perch of “More Mesa.”

There is also a sense of perspective. Take “Murnau,” where Eick and Turner, who eschew tonguing their instruments in favor of gentle slurs, create just the right tough of melancholy before Oh takes over, her wooden bass plucks carefully crafted above Lackner’s chordal backing. And on “Anacapa,” Eick and Turner’s dual voicings skip lightly above Lackner’s fingerings, creating rays of tuneful sunlight that seem to float down from a forest canopy. These tandem voicings, usually with Eick taking the melody and Turner providing the harmony, can be heard on “Fair Warning,” “Out of the Fog,” and “Chambary,” and the two players illustrate how the sounds of trumpet and sax can be cooly blended to create impressionistic soundscapes.

“I seek solace in music and the process of composing is a form of meditation for me,” says Lackner in the liner notes. “There may be bleaker undercurrents on this album, coloured by underlying sadness, perhaps even fear. But I do hear hope in there as well.” That said, one can also think of Spindrift as a warm blanket on cold early morning – a set of tunes you can wrap around yourself, alone in thought, drinking chamomile tea with just the right amount of honey to sweeten the taste, readying oneself to face the coming day. Enjoy.

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