Ajo Sunshine (pronounced “Ahh-Ho”) is heralded by
an alarming horn ensemble, stabbing with the dramatic
urgency of a killer’s theme in a midnight movie. It’s a
jarring but appropriate entry point for this brilliantly blasted
listen, an array of exquisitely sharp edges punctuated by
kaleidoscopic respites of throbbing warmth and surprising
tenderness. J.R.C.G. (Justin R. Cruz Gallego)’s previous
work with Seattle’s excellent Dreamdecay may foreground
the broad strokes here, but he’s pushed things way outward
in terms of his sonic palette. Abutting field recordings
captured from rodeos off Ajo Way, a stretch of highway
that leads one westward out of Tucson Arizona directly into
the sun, both acoustic instruments and gleaming walls
of synthetic noise are framed in dour and dissonant chord
shapes, crackling with overdriven drum mics and seasick
waves of distortion. It’s homage that plays out like a
collage, a dream switching from station to station, a series
of dedications broadcast on late night radio. All pin-hole
size images from scenes never seen whole, strung together
in but one version of complete, all making for a dazzling
listen.