Count G would never call himself a musician, even though he loves playing around with any instrument he might get his hands on. Although he is an accomplished poet by another name, music has always been the most meaningful form of artistic expression since he was a child in Athens.
Having spent some time in the early 1980s improvising with a pair of musically magnanimous and equally daring friends, he abandoned music for a career as an essayist and educator until his musical self demanded its due. Count G returned with the uncontrolled energy of a child in a playground, putting to work musical ideas that had existed for years only in his dreams.
He understands sound as a liquid form that can be captured in tiny crystal structures and then sculpted into compositions of varying length – oblique, meditative or downright disruptive of expected patterns of listening. Mining his notorious compulsion to archive instances of his itinerant life in word and sound, as well as his surrealist tendency to embrace random elements and his existential affinity for improvisation, Count G approaches composition with an ear to the unexpected, disarmingly seeking odd venues of listening.
What he’s going to do next is anybody’s guess, including his own.