Part of being a musician is periodically lobbing your little paper airplane over impossible fences just to see where it lands. Sometimes it drops immediately into a decorative fountain. Sometimes it catches an unexpected gust of air. In the meantime, somewhere out there, Tony Levin may briefly encounter a sequence of Canadian notes that interrupts his afternoon between Stick parts, studio sessions, and whatever other advanced bass wizardry occupies the schedule of a man who has spent decades supplying low frequencies to the architecture of civilization.

I wrote him after seeing an advertisement for his website and asked if he might be interested in recording together sometime. No expectation he’ll respond but every now and then the cosmic switchboard accidentally connects two strange electrical systems. I added a video of me playing something I thought ticklish to his brain. The kind of musical thought that wanders into the room wearing orthopedic shoes and carrying three partially completed maps to places nobody remembers visiting. Good luck bob.