Phét is a Tibetan syllable that means to cut through. Through concepts & obscurations. Through anything in the mind that stands as an obstacle to our direct engagement of the present. Such tempting distractions! Phét says: RIGHT NOW. As Phét does: RIGHT NOW.

 That Jarrett Gilgore named his project after this mantra—Phét Phét Phét—underscores his interest in music as a form of awakening. Music as presence, manifestation, & channeling, more than as ornamentation or description of experience. This is no vessel for preconceived notions, but a record of musicians opening themselves to discovery & encounter through play. Through each other’s company. Phét Phét Phét says: Say farewell to what you’ve known. Say hello to everything you feel now, & to all the things that feel through you.

 Phét Phét Phét has no fixed lineup of members. Fittingly, it is an evolving project that allows Gilgore to collaborate with the musicians he meets along the way. Adapting to many presents, it becomes a wide network of back & forths. The iteration of Phét Phét Phét that made Shimmer began almost a decade ago, when Gibrán Andrade visited Baltimore in 2015 & Gilgore set up a show for him. Friendship & mutual emotion opened up a relay between the US & Mexico City, a tessellation of worlds within which Susan Alcorn, Mabe Fratti, Marc Miller, Hector Tosta & Marco Carrión were swirling. One of the many offshoots of these encounters is this disarming & breathtaking album. This conversation between musicians from all over the Americas: Baltimore, Mexico City, Guatemala City, Caracas.

 Shimmer’s tones are unexpected, the combinations of instruments far off the beaten trails of familiar genres. It’s not quite jazz, not quite neoclassical, not quite soul, but something all its own. Saxophone, clarinet, glockenspiel, cello, pedal steel, synths, guitar & human voice merge in ethereal counterpoints that nod to chamber music, while the rhythm section drives the whole thing forward with an uncanny propulsion that feels cool, self-possessed & hyper contemporary. & all the while Shimmer makes sure to keep one foot outside time—stepping alone toward the ageless inward horizon. Its A-side contains four tightly orchestrated tracks recorded in Mexico City in 2023; the B-side is a single long experiment in texture, which Gilgore began writing at the beginning of the pandemic in 2020 and finished remotely in 2023.

 Think Jacques Brel’s “Je suis un soir d’été”. Think Chicago fusion à la Tortoise. Think the wall-of-sound production of David Axelrod. Think Steve Reich’s organs in polyrhythm. Think Arthur Russell’s neo-classical “Tower of Meaning”. Think them all at once, then forget all that & open yourself to something new.

 What I mean is: when Jarrett Gilgore plays what we call the instruments, he’s not playing instruments. When he plays what we call notes, he’s not playing notes. When he composes what we call songs, he’s not composing songs. Instruments, under his care, don’t do what they do in the hands of others. Music, in his hands, doesn’t assert particular messages or portray scenes. It disappears into.