Djam Karet formed in 1984 near Los Angeles. Gayle Ellett and Mike Henderson on guitars, Chuck Oken on drums, and Henry Osborne on bass steep their harmonies in electronic effects and indulge in psychedelic excesses. Tapes and guitar improvisations are used with a sometimes Wagnerian fervor. Before incorporating Ellett they were called Happy Cancer and played jazz-rock, and those origins underpin their sound. Theirs is, in fact, above all a group devoted to total improvisation.

Their first cassette, No Commercial Potential (HC), contains three jams improvised in the studio in April 1985. Where's L.Ron opens with metallic percussion noises, while guitars and bass emit occasional scattered chords; then the guitars begin weaving increasingly psychedelic phrases reminiscent of Peter Green�s End Of The Game, and Oken sets up a frenetic cymbal cadence that soon sweeps the guitars into a fiery dance.
Blue Fred is more representative of what really happened live: the inorganic noises sparingly dispensed by the various instruments gradually coagulate into a rich, vigorous sound that at times recalls southern-rock jams, at times the jazz of Steve Tibbetts, at times the atmospheric watercolors of certain ECM musicians. Ellett�s guitar is as insistent as the most long-winded of Hendrix�s disciples.
(The CD reissue contains three more jams, notably the 20-minute The Building and the 27-minute The Window).

The music of this period is strongly influenced by 1970s progressive rock (Pink Floyd, King Crimson, Genesis, Yes).

After acquiring electronic keyboards and a guitar-synth, in February 1987 the quartet recorded their second cassette, The Ritual Continues. Inspired by the harmonies of Eastern music, particularly the repetition of simple motifs, Djam Karet expanded their harmonic horizons.
The work is structured in eight shorter, measured episodes. The conciseness slightly reduces the quartet�s raw energy, but benefits the overall picture, making it less rigid and more articulated. Shaman's Descent, which combines the typical aggression of Tibbetts-style guitar with more atmospheric arrangements and clearly Eastern hints, serves as a bridge to the jams of their early period; but the real novelty of this new phase lies in the dense crackle of natural sounds that forms the backbone of A Quiet Place, later sublimated into an electronic "prayer" � la Kitaro; and even more in the collage-style of The Black River, which blends the sound of a jackhammer, tropical bird calls, electronic dissonances, guitar distortions, and a sampled voice, a piece that would have fit well on Pink Floyd's Ummagumma.
The title track is a raga soon engulfed by a violent improvisation from Ellett's guitar-synth; in A City With Two Tales, a long trance of equatorial tribalism in the style of Jon Hassell is punctuated by sirens and electronic rustlings; and with the transcendent effects of Familiar Winds, the quartet crosses into new age territory.
Overall, this is already one of the finest examples of 1980s progressive rock, a synthesis of musical languages explored by King Crimson, the Grateful Dead, the Allman Brothers, the Canterbury scene, and anyone who ever improvised in a rock context.

During the Ritual sessions, Djam Karet also recorded a 25-minute jam, Walkabout, which was included in 1988 on the cassette Kafka's Breakfast (Auricle Music), along with an excerpt from Happy Cancer. Walkabout is a return to the long improvised jams of their early days, featuring the dual guitars of Ellett and Henderson, but with a much more pronounced rhythm that at times produces breathtaking sequences of spasmodic tension, intertwining the intermittent signals of Interstellar Overdrive (Pink Floyd) with the syncopated deliriums of Close To The Edge (Yes).

In the summer of 1988, the group set up a proper recording studio (the previous cassettes had been recorded live, without overdubs) and over the next six months recorded Reflections From The Firepool (HC, 1989), their first full-length album. It is an even more conceptual work (all the tracks exceed six minutes) that also makes use of a sequencer and electronic percussion, completing a highly sophisticated arsenal of non-acoustic instruments. The underlying inspiration, however, remains the same: 1970s European progressive rock. In the second part of The Sky Opens Twice, for example, there are guitar chords in crescendo reminiscent of Pink Floyd�s litany, repetitive raga-rock motifs, the atmospheric electronics of Tangerine Dream, and the magical textures of Genesis; hints of flash-rock (EL&P and Yes) appear in Run Cerberus Run; the �heavier� side of King Crimson can be felt in the martial, dark momentum and complex harmonies of Scenes From The Electric Circus.
That Djam Karet manage to improve on their influences is demonstrated by tracks like Animal Origin, whose architecture is much more subtle than it appears (minimalist figures are layered across different instruments), yet its grandiose progression suits the overture of a neo-romantic concept piece. The album�s strength lies precisely in the balance between the experimental component (cosmic-psychedelic, jazz-rock, ambient-minimalist) and the rock-and-roll element.
Although Reflections is the typical consolidation album for a style that had been evolving over the years, Djam Karet do not stop experimenting: the glissando concerto of Fall Of The Monkeywalk uses a dense carpet of African percussion and various sound effects; the guitar solos have become so intense that they verge on heavy metal, as in The Red Monk; All Doors Look Alike is cradled by the jingle-jangle of guitars in a dreamlike atmosphere and then sinks into a layer of electronic echoes punctuated by gentle acoustic guitar chords. The title track is a masterclass in fusion: �cosmic� guitar and electronic chords, bursts of rain, four minutes of electric guitar delirium, and a subdued flamenco-style finale.

The most experimental collage of their career is perhaps the one appearing on the compilation Dali: The Endless Enigma (Coriolis): Inventions Of The Monsters.

In September 1991, that charisma was confirmed with the simultaneous release of two albums (both around seventy minutes), which essentially separated the two sides that Reflections had so well fused: the experimental and the rock. Suspension & Displacement (HC) takes the first, while Burning The Hard City takes the second.
If Dark Clouds No Rain (eleven minutes), with its raga-like progression, the ebb and flow of electronic layers, cosmic background drones, celestial chimes, and natural sounds, seems to wink at the relaxing sound of electronic new age music (also thanks to the sophisticated use of loops, which completely alter the guitar�s timbre to make it sound like a synthesizer); if many of the shorter tracks (Angels Without Wings, with its symphonic depth, and Severed Moon, with its ghostly ending for electronics and acoustic guitar) update Brian Eno�s �ambient� watercolors and the Germans� �cosmic� symphonies with new age production techniques; a lush and intricate revision of A City With Two Tales and the suite Erosion (almost thirteen minutes of increasingly obsessive �Riley-like� minimalism, one of their most �serious� compositions ever) show just how sophisticated their arrangement technique had become.

Quite the opposite is Burning The Hard City (HC, 1991), which is in fact even more rock than the hardest tracks on Reflections. The seven violent sonic excesses of this album (average duration: ten minutes each) enter a nearly heavy-metal register. Dominated by electric guitar, with its riffs and distortions, it is more elaborate and airy in At The Mountains Of Madness, dark and martial in Province 19: The Visage of War (reminiscent of 21st Schizoid Man, one of their masterpieces), melodic and bluesy in the title track (but with a series of lightning riffs toward the end), and always anchored to the Yes model (especially in Grooming The Psychosis). The music is also related to what Joe Baiza (Universal Congress) and Greg Ginn (Gone) do in other contexts. What makes this album unique is the unusual fusion of almost bestial fury and flexible narrative art. On one hand, each piece is a �story� that travels through different episodes, and on the other, the musical passages are concentrated bursts of tension and rage.

In 1993, guitarist Ellett, together with keyboardist Gardner Graber, compiled on Music For Televisions (Emerald Productions) the music written over three years for a couple of TV shows, revealing the true source of Djam Karet�s encyclopedic style. These are atmospheric instrumental pieces, much less experimental than those of the main band, but skillfully blended with heavy metal guitar, reggae cadences, and surf tones. The results are often spectacular: Big Waves is a hybrid of Zappa-style orchestral overture, new age, and disco; First Base is a series of industrial music mutations forged in the raw violence of heavy metal; Cruisin' is a funky jazz-rock psalm.
And if in Aluminum and Danana Ellett unleashes the macho exhibitionism of heavy metal; if in Vibramonrastation the duo indulges in reggae flourishes; if It's All Behind Me Now winks at chart pop; a profusion of grotesque themes decorates the �novelty� pieces like Cowabunga, Rep Vacation, and Equestrian Boogeyman, which in the end turn out to be the most enjoyable tracks. Above all, the tropical music-box of Colour Light reigns, the most �funny� piece of the entire collection. Altogether, the album stands out as one of the most atypical instrumental records ever.

Collaborator (HC, 1994) is a series of collaborations with other musicians (mostly electronic) that takes its cue from Suspension. By emphasizing the �digital� quality of the sound to calligraphic levels, Djam Karet end up losing their own identity and venturing fully into near-new-age electronics, ranging from Jon Hassell�s ethno-minimalism on Gondwanaland (with Kit Watkins) to the turbulent fresco of The Anointing Of The Sick (with Jeff Greinke). Dominating the album are the sinister and spatial atmospheres of Moorings, Cliff Spirits, and Fearful Void, where electronics reveal their darkest textures.

The Devouring (Cuneiform, 1997) is another monumental album, confirming them as some of the greatest �total� musicians of our time, capable of building acrobatic bridges between the most disparate genres and of elaborated theme-based improvisations. The trio has improved on all fronts. Chuck Oken�s punishing polyrhythms and Gayle Ellett�s loquacious guitar attacks create the foundations and scaffolding, while the arrangements layer plane upon plane of sound, drawing from an arsenal of keyboards, samples, and exotic percussion.
The compositions (almost always seven to eight minutes long) are simultaneously more intricate and more mechanical. For instance, the metamorphoses of Night Of The Mexican Goat Sucker follow a continuous cycle that moves from a thunderous heavy-metal jam to an epic Baroque theme-and-fugue on keyboards, then to a �Hendrixian� guitar solo, and back to rock jamming.
The arrangements reach symphonic levels. The overture of Lost But Not Forgotten, when oboe, mellotron, organ, and synthesizer overlap, has the weight of a Strauss symphonic poem. The opening of Lights Over Roswell (threatening waves of synthesizer, bass chords left to resonate in the void, vortex of sirens) is worthy of a Klaus Schulze cosmic music suite.
Djam Karet�s trademark is precisely their ability to transform such magniloquent and doctrinal material into rock grit�wild, stormy, even tectonic; their attempt to reconcile the transcendent and the prosaic. With cold determination, with the assurance of the classics. The intensely new-age meditation of The River Of No Return gives way to one of the liveliest and jazziest jams, before returning to contemplation with an exotic mellotron coda in caravan rhythm.
In their albums, Djam Karet often like to trace a path, spiritual before musical. Thus, in the second part, the atmosphere becomes increasingly rarefied: mysticism pervades the guitar psalm of Myth Of A White Jesus, the slow and solemn melody of Room is worthy of Vangelis, and The Indian Problem is orchestrated for acoustic guitar trance with human breaths in the background. One of the most programmatic�but also one of the most spectacular�tracks is the short Pinzler Method, in which the extremes of electronic abstraction and rock violence are revealed as two sides of the same coin (in this, the group owes something to The Who): keyboard minimalism and guitar acrobatics proceed in parallel without interfering, instead feeding each other.
The album reaches its climax with the eleven-minute Old Soldier's Disease, opening with one of the brightest melodies (masterfully doubled on synth) and then carried with majestic command of means, at an almost funereal pace, toward a cryptic finale that contrasts with the exuberant opening�a sweet and resigned refrain. Perhaps some will read a metaphor of human life in it, from childhood to death.
Few have managed to blend electric guitar and electronic keyboards with such harmony. From a strictly technical standpoint, this is their best album, and one of the best in all of progressive rock. Certainly the first to go so far beyond the stereotypes of King Crimson, Yes, Rush, etc.

By blending minimalism, psychedelia, progressive, and industrial elements, Djam Karet have forged one of the most original languages in modern rock and redefined the rock quartet as a format for intense experimentation. They are arguably the greatest progressive-rock band since the 1980s.

Live At Orion (Cuneiform, 1999) reaches the peak of their form. The band delivers an hour and a quarter of heavy-metal solos and progressive improvisations without time seeming to pass. Ellett and Henderson have become a unique cross between Joe Satriani and Neal Schon, able to blend daring glissandos with romantic melodies naturally. Chuck Oken is on par with rhythm machines like Neil Peart, with his fluid and verbose style. The live album also has the merit of revisiting tracks from the cassette The Ritual Continues in a strikingly digital version: Technology And Industry (opened by a splendid jazz duet between Henry Osborne�s bubbling bass and the minimally articulated guitars), Shaman's Descent (a sunny guitar theme in an atmosphere of mystery), and Familiar Winds (a masterpiece of subtle guitar disturbances and scorching solos over a psychedelic cadence). Among the other selections are Reflections From The Firepool, from the eponymous album, half a small minimalist fanfare and half an oriental-tinged bolero; Run Cerberus Run, from the same album, a baroque fugue in the style of Yes or EL&P; Province 19: The Visage of War, from Burning The Hard City; and the brainy Forbidden By Rule, from Devouring, which sits halfway between Phish and King Crimson.

The band is at its creative peak in these extended live improvisations on pieces taken from their previous albums. The eight tracks, for a total of 74 minutes, are difficult but entertaining: Forbidden By Rule, from Devouring, could advertise the band as a cross between Phish and King crimson; Province 19: The Visage of War, from Burning The Hard City, brings to mind a truly schizoid version of 21st Schizoid Man; and so forth.
A plus is that the CD presents vastly improved versions of several tracks of the rare The Ritual Continues cassette: Technology And Industry (boasting a master duet between Henry Osborne's bass and minimalist guitars) Shaman's Descent and Familiar Winds (reminiscent of the kaleidoscopic suites of psychedelic rock). Not surprisingly, Reflections From The Firepool and Run Cerberus Run steal the show, the first one with its slow and hypnotic pace, the second with its breathtaking fugue a` la ELP&P or Yes: they both are from Reflections From The Firepool, Djam Karet's masterpiece and one of progressive-rock's all-time milestones.

The limited-edition Still No Commercial Potential (HC, 2000) is a distillation of seven hours of jamming by a quartet that already ranks among the greatest ensembles of improvised (rock or jazz) music ever. The foursome got together and just started playing, without any predetermined tune or key or even rhythm. Despite the premises, the result is as cohesive and organic as a classical composition could be. Not surprisingly, given its improvisational nature, the music also recalls Indian classical music and takes on a mystical and transcendental quality. In fact, it will make fans of Phish blush. A minimalist tinkling sets the pace for a dilated, mantra-like guitar wail in No Vacancy At The Hotel Of Noise. In Twilight In Lonely Lands Ellett's organ builds a church atmosphere with solemn and slo-motion chords, while tablas-like percussions fill the scant soundscape. Room 24 Around Noon continues the progression into the religious intensity of the raga, while also injecting a stronger jazz flavor (imagine a duet between John McLaughlin and Chick Corea).
The landscape and the orchestration shift dramatically with The Black Line, a pan-ethnic piece for natural sounds, didjeridoo, flute-like electronics, African percussion and guitar feedback. The tour de force of Strange Wine From A Twisted Fruit (almost half an hour long) and, while it dilutes and adulterates the technique of graceful unfolding set forth in the first three tracks, it provides a documentary view on their art of music making. Needless to say, this is their least "psychedelic" album.
The defining moment of Djam Karet's career was Devouring and Still No Commercial Potential can be seen as the culmination of that album's manifesto: improvised music that is as austere and sophisticated as written compositions. Djam Karet belong to classical music as much as to rock music.

Maskit Chamber is multi-instrumentalist Gayle Ellett's side project. Heaven Machine (TMC, 2001) is, mostly, a personal tribute to analog keyboards. Ellett tries them in all combinations and styles, from the Italian Horror Movie Soundtrack to the solemn Vangelis-ian theme of Mosaic 2000, from the world-music of Free Tibet to the funky ZZ Top-ish 6% Solution. The melodic vignettes are arranged with gusto, but, except for the retro-futurist 6% Solution, they fail to establish a musical persona.

The 4th Wave (TMC, 2001) is a 50-minute composition. It opens with a desert-suspense sound a` la Steve Roach that Ellett soon crosses with a guitar-based melodic, mediterranean theme a` la Mike Oldfield. After about eight minutes, a new scenario is presented, a dark, rumbling soundscape from which a celestial synth melody soars. After a long, static section of soothing drones, an electronic breeze introduces a delicate guitar strum. Slowly, the landscape blooms, filled with angelic choirs, zen melodies, majestic strings. The listener is transported into the jungle and then out of space, or back in time. Sound disappears and the journey has reached a desolate land. A bit of Ennio Morricone sprinkled over new age music allows Ellett to compose the musical equivalent of a fairy tale.

Djam Karet's New Dark Age (Cuneiform, 2001) marks the promotion of electronic keyboards to the forefront. It also inaugurates a leaner, simpler, gentler sound. Overall, it sounds like a very minor work, a divertissment by an auteur on holiday abroad. It is hard to recognize the band in the upbeat and almost hummable No Man's Land and Going Home (a ten minute King Crimson-ian opus). The funk/blues jam All Clear is a hybrid of the Blues Traveler and a surf band.
Djam Karet rarely rises to the standard of their past masterpieces. Even the angst-ridden Web of Medea is marred by conventional lounge-jazz nuances. The band's creative process is given free reins only in the short electronic interludes (Eclipse Of Faith, Demon Train, Kali's Indifference, Eulogy) and in two lengthy compositions that have little or nothing in common with their past exuberance, both hypnotic, exotic, atmospheric, trancey: Raising Orpheus and Alone With The River Man. No doubt every note on this album is elegant and competent, but the effect is that of background muzak.

The synthesizer was prominent on A Night for Baku (Cuneiform, 2003), containing Hungry Ghost and The Red Thread, and Recollection Harvest (Cuneiform, 2005), containing The Packing House and The Gypsy & The Hegemon, but was replaced by a roaring Colosseum-style organ on The Heavy Soul Sessions (HC, 2010), a set of old instrumentals recorded live-in-the-studio with no overdubbing.

Oken's and Ellett's side-project Ukab Maerd engaged in electronic and digital ambient music on The Waiting Room (2010). The Cave (23:35) is an intellectual version of slow-paced, relaxing, lounge muzak with Middle-Eastern percussion. Its main asset is the contrast between the warm tones of the analog synthesizers collide with the cold tones of the digital dissonances. The bleak drone of White Light No Heat (11:28) evokes arctic winds but suddenly the music morphs into bouncing synth-pop. Other ominous drones surface in God's Elastic Acre (18:16), but none makes an impact. The cinematic and impressionistic Sati & The Trainman (11:14) resurrects memories of vintage Tonto's Expanding Head Band. All in all, the project sounds still a bit amateurish.

Meanwhile, guitarist Mike Henderson debuted solo with White Arrow Project (HC Productions, 2010), a collection of atmospheric songs that focus on a surprisingly conventional style: synth-augmented country-pop.

Ellett's acoustic duo Fernwood released albums of impressionistic and cinematic vignettes: Fernwood (2007), Almeria (2008), Sangita (2009) and Arcadia (2015), that contains the gentle multi-ethnic instrumental lullaby Bells Spring.

Henderson and Oken released Dream Theory In The IE (Firepool, 2011), a collection of lengthy atmospheric instrumental pieces: the hypnotic, repetitive Alive Enough?, the melodic, exotic Forgotten Spirits, the dissonant electronic collage of Dream Theory in the IE, the magniloquent and ecstatic When All The Birds Die Away, regurgitating ghost voices of the jungle, and especially the feverish, tribal suspense of Zombie Attack. The 25-minute John Henry Changes The Rules is the most "narrative" piece, opening with a lighter and more chromatic form of minimalism and then letting the guitar intone a celestial hymn.

Djam Karet's keyboardist Gayle Ellett and guitarist Mike Murray formed Hillmen with Peter Hillman (drums) and Ralph Rivers (bass). The Whiskey Mountain Sessions (Firepool, 2011) contains four lengthy jams that explore downtempo jazz-rock with psychedelic overtones in Lights On The Bay (highlighted by a captivating solo of space guitar) and exuberant propulsive Latin-tinged dance-rock in Summer Days. Both the psychedelic and the Latin accents permeate the 16-minute The Fire Burns, reminiscent of countless instrumental fusion styles of the 1970s to the point of sounding like an elegant and erudite synthesis or tribute of sorts to the post-Miles Davis age.

Djam Karet's The Trip (2013) contains one massive composition, The Trip. It begins with retro-futuristic synthesizers and cosmic droning electronica, then it wanders through free-floating guitar-driven mindscapes. When this relatively austere section implodes, it is swept away by a cold wind and replaced with a folkish melodic theme a` la Leo Kottke. That mood decays into a trance dotted with electronic invocations and then into a gothic sequence of eerie human and machine sounds. Finally a choir emerges to signal the return to earthly consciousness and a classic power-trio jam takes over and leads to the closing reprise of the folkish leitmotiv. In the era of glitch music, dubstep, etc this suite inevitably sounds nostalgic, bringing back memories of Mike Oldfield and Klaus Schulze.

Regenerator 3017 (2014) is almost the mirror opposite of The Trip, a much more lightweight collection of relaxed pieces. There is no denying the magisterial elegance of the combo, notably the smooth solos in Living in the Future Past, the melodic grace of Desert Varnish, but the mood is often a bit too somnolent (Wind Pillow). The poppy lullaby Lost Dreams and the romantic fantasia On the Edge of the Moon are hardly what one expect from a progressive group, no matter how well executed; but then maybe that was the whole point.

Sonic Celluloid (2017), heavy on synthesizers and more focused on melodies than on arrangements, certainly doesn't have the power and inspiration of their best works. Saul Says So builds up sinister suspense with an expert blend of jazz-rock, minimalism and new-age, culminating with an atmospheric Mediterranean guitar; No Narration Needed agonizes with dreamy trumpet, synth invocation and angelic choir before settling for the folkish motif of the acoustic guitar. This is their most "gentle" album, well represented by the flute melody of the closing The Denouement Device.

Exotic instrument such as dilruba, mbira and udu A Sky Full Of Stars For A Roof (HC Productions, 2019) hijack the crunchy jazz-rock jam Beyond The Frontier and the breezy dance of Long Ride To Eden The eleven-minute soundscape A Sky Full Of Stars For A Roof is perhaps too focused on the timbral aspects and the atmosphere. The gentle guitar melodies of Dust In The Sun and Specter Of Twilight further shift the center of mass towards a relaxed new-age style.