A lone saxophone, a glockenspiel, two mics, a Zoom recorder. These are the materials Patrick Shiroishi brought with him late at night to a cavernous parking garage underneath a fondue restaurant in Monterey Park. It was around 1:30 in the morning; the place was not far from where Shiroishi grew up, a blank canvas shown to him by his dear friend Noah Klein. A vacant space for a new type of collaboration—between saxophone and silence, between noise and reverberation, between negative space and self.
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