1000 Days finds Wand searching in corners. Where have all the people gone? Where have they put them? Panoramas of the body history are viewed through Wand's spy-glass as it sweeps the horizon. Major mutations blooming and ballooning in the cities. The vault where plans for an invasion gather dust. The latest fables buzzing down the civil wire. All these and more are folded and packed neatly into a traveler's trunk stuffed with tonal frequencies - sounds that tickle a Pavlovian response, the heartache and the sadness and the anger that we feel, the tug of our highest ideals. All by punching a key or playing a chord - an illusion made of parts representing a sequence or set of steps that, taken together, add up to an exploded diagram of a subject and its perception, meant to be swallowed as a whole. Never shy of a new machine, Wand found extra texture during 1000 Days via synthetic animation. Songs compelled them to reach across lifestyle, relying on broadcast to find out who might need the sound. The atmosphere is quicksilver and the space acoustic; as a beacon sparks electric, a cascade of hi-fi noises for everyone's ear moles - raucous, impassive, inevitable musical expressions.
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