How Basil Kirchin convinced Columbia Records to release his music is so far beyond my comprehension that even in mentioning it, it gives me heart palpitations. What the composer and percussionist was able to pass off on the megalith can only be construed as some sort of experimental pastiche. I don't like using the term experimental at all, but here, it's the only term that could potentially apply. And while this music is nothing short of fascinating - much like the life that Kirchin led - it really isn't something that one would toss on for pleasure. This is an academic exercise.

Following in the foot steps of his father, who as a big band leader, the younger Kirchin eventually joined his family's band and backed the likes of Stan Kenton and other luminaries of the time. The resultant success of American tour dates led to international touring. But eventually strained by performing music composed by other people, in addition to the fact that rock 'n roll basically stifled the market for big bands, Kirchin quit the group and traveled to India. Upon his return to the UK, where he made his home subsequent to this travels, Kirchin encountered the emerging youth culture, replete with Jimmy Page and Mick Ronson as session players.

Kirchin began working on what would then be termed as soundtrack music utilizing not just the aforementioned session players, but found sounds that he captured on his Nagra, purchased by the British government at the behest of a grant or some such. Kirchin spent time in zoos, in nature and on the streets colleting a vast array of noises, sounds and other weird aural tidbits in order to assemble some of them for his Columbia Records' release of Worlds Within Worlds. There are apparently two volumes of this series, but only having found the first - and being vaguely familiar with the film The Abominable Dr. Phibes, which featured Vincent Price as well as Kirchin's sound track - I can't comment on the composer's developing style. I can say, though, that this is a weird disc now, so almost forty years back, this album could have drastically disturbed some folks.

Worlds Within Worlds is broken into two, side long efforts, each working in and around some bleating horns, repetitive warbling and I think that there's even a lion roaring during the first side of the disc. There's no accounting for each disparate noise - that would in fact take months to even try to decipher. But the approach here, which seems tantamount to the cut up method utilized by everyone from Teo Macero to William Burroughs, gets a thorough workout with the distinct noises that Kirchin was able to collect.

Apart from this release, which seems to focus on the zoo oriented fair that Kirchin amassed, the composer sought to utilize recordings of Autistic children in some musical context. And while that might initially sound like some cruel joke, one would imagine that any child would exhibit more than a bit of glee at hearing his or her voice on record. But that work too pretty much assured that Kirchin wouldn't sell a huge amount of anything. Today, though, everyone from Evan Parker to other even less traditional players hail Kirchin's work as forward thinking, if not too listenable.