To understand this album, first you need to understand the methodology behind it. Composer Eric Glick Rieman worked on a Rhodes electric piano, which he modified by adding nails, steel rods, rubber washers, clothespins, paperclips, and even peanuts -- in other words, everything but the kitchen sink. He then played the Frankenstein-like instrument with everything from his hands and a bass bow to marbles, tools, and bottle caps, creating amorphous ambient compositions that change shape and form like aural Play-Dough. In the end, though, the story of how this music was created is far more interesting than the music itself. Sure, the haunting, spacy drones of the opening "Whimbrel on White Linen" are spellbinding for a minute or two -- think
Ennio Morricone conducting a symphony of whale calls -- but at eight minutes the track is simply too long and monotonous to hold your attention. As a soundtrack for a horror film, the creepy, atmospheric spookiness of songs like "Whigmaleerian Duologue" would be very effective at establishing an edgy mood, but the music on
Ten to the Googolplex is a bit too esoteric to warrant repeated listening on its own merits.