Title: Utter garbage
Product review: Don't get me wrong. I like some of Meredith Monk's stuff (when she's not on some hallucinogen), but this is going to far. Plot, musical coherence, dramatism, take your pick--unfortunately, none of it is there. Experimentation is all well and good if you can pull it off at least with some minor hint of artistic expression, but Atlas is utterly nonsensical and way too repetitive to be considered a work of art. If, after hearing this, you are still brave enough to give Meredith Monk another try, check out Book of Days. It's much more musically coherent and much easier to grasp. It also, in my opinion, is a much better expression of Monk's continuing search to expand the capabilities of the human voice.
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