In the later years of my life, when time and money finally afford me the opportunity, I imagine I'll become a compulsive book collector. First editions, limited editions, signed copies-- all of these beg to be coveted for their rarity and preserved for posterity. But it's not like I don't already have a strong base to begin with. Signed copy of Steven Kellogg's kindergarten masterpiece, Island of the Skog? Check. First edition paperback of John Barth's The Floating Opera, with neato curved corners? Check. Signed copy of Roger Ebert's bloated Book of Film? Double-check!

Need I boast further? Of course not, if only to get to the point: this looming obsession-- which somehow managed to ignore vinyl, the bane of many an OCD's existence-- is probably related to my immediate partiality for Jarboe/Telecognac's Over. Not only did the experimental-friendly folks at the Crouton label limit the pressing to 500, but they hand-numbered the white folder packaging with a silver pen, writing it as a fraction, as is many a photographer's wont. I am #368, and no one else will ever be that number. Unless I happen to sell Over at a used record store.

That won't happen anytime soon, though, and not just because Over is one of the few collectible CDs I own. This 35-minute album consists of three intriguing remixes of "Under," a song by former Swans member Jarboe, which appears on her latest album, Disburden Disciples. Your skepticism now worsens: all three remixes are by Telecognac, the experimental electronic side-project of Pele members Chris Rosenau and Jon Mueller. But what makes this project interesting is that Jarboe provided isolated elements of the source material from "Under," thus allowing Telecognac to completely build a new song. Or, in this case, three new songs.

The sixteen-minute opener begins with two alternating electro-acoustic chords that, although clearly chopped, cut, and pasted, maintain an engaging rhythm. Fitful, jazzy percussion slips in and the guitar chords become increasingly louder, warming the listener for the approaching discordant piano. After the outburst subsides, an ominous, plodding one-note bass sets the pace for an incessant clarinet. But just as crescendo nears unbearable heights, the sound cuts out but for some static. The void is quickly filled by the dissected, unintelligible voice of Jarboe. As diced as her vocals are, one still can still sense the impressiveness of her creepy larynx. Later, during the track's chaotic peak, all of these elements blend together as Jarboe's voice is reduced to one raw, guttural note, which is repeated until it sounds like a field of burning locusts.

The shorter second remix is a less complex but equally compelling ambient piece. There are only four basic textures: what seems to be an elongated, looped clarinet note; one calming, repetitive Casio chord; a subtly distorted and, again, looped guitar; and then two alternating Casio chords. All of these are patiently brought out to create a pleasant, welcome lull.

Third number returns to the length and recklessness of the opening track. There's more rambunctious percussion, but this time it's given center stage, allowing the careful electronic manipulation to become apparent. Eventually, the plodding bass returns, which brings the song too close in sound to the first remix. But this time, instead of Jarboe's voice, the piano takes on the roll of centerpiece. Equally irreverent, but with more tonal range, the notes break apart just when they finally work themselves into order. I don't know if I should liken it to a temperamental beginning pianist or to Thelonious Monk with a sequencer. (Probably the former.) Eventually, the vocals and guitar return, but only as a reprise, as if to bring the disc back to the beginning-- not just to the start of the first track, but to its source material.

Over is an interesting listen, and forces me to admit that maybe I should give Rosenau and Mueller more credit than I have in the past. Though not amazing, there's no reason only 500 people should get a copy. So while it might not last as long as my Ebert book, or even Island of the Skog, Over's tenure won't be any shorter than any of my signed, first-edition novels by unknown Iowa Writer's Workshop graduates.