An odd record, released in 2010. Not exactly attractive, homogeneous in terms of acoustic shades and overall dynamics. Still, the idea of a modified 73 Rhodes piano – played in all possible ways with dozens of extensions and objects – is fascinating and, at the end of the day, a way to welcome at least a part of the contents was found. In truth, Eric Glick Rieman – who, among others, has studied (and worked) with tutors named Fred Frith, Pauline Oliveros, Eliane Radigue and Alvin Curran – doesn’t seem to consume himself by excessively thinking to aesthetics. The immediate sensation seems to favor a conscientious breakdown of the improvisational processes rather than tasting the efficacy of the results. Preparations include everything from rubber and metal to maple seeds and quartz; as different as the manipulations of the instrument may be, the general sonority is kept under the blanket of a meager minimalism, with diminutive noises and microscopic intrusions thrown in the plate. Never we raised our head and thought “a-ha” during the playback, if you get my point. It works in spurts, then one gets used to the company of a music that walks along a wall, looking down: a buxom girl with a weird but interesting face, uncertain about a sex appeal that she nevertheless owns. What I mean is that if there are intriguing ploys inside this CD, the composer made sure to disguise them carefully. Yet this reviewer is convinced that In My Mind, Her Image Was Reversed deserves numerous listens to really formulate a definitive judgment.