Bathyspheric sonar guitars under ice. We voyage in the dark deep with shafts of sunlight dappling our ship’s metal skin. The guitars call up strange fish and unnamed creatures that play around the metal fins as the music slices through the dark, cutting shapes out of the indigo, leaving geometric swirls and tattered weeds in our wake. Then UP! With a batter of drums we burst out into a land stranger than the one we have come from, flying out wet and rusted like a green birth.