Turmoil under a placid surface. This is the impression that the New Alliance between Mark Kostabi and Delilah Gutman inspires, under all circumstances. And, believe me, did I put this to a test! What prompted me to explore this joint American and Italian project was an e-mail message, as it is appropriate to this day and age, reaching me on the West Coast of the US from the East Coast of Italy. Delilah Gutman's relentless creativity, always at odds with labels and definitions, presented me with the electronic chance to explore a new endeavor, which espouses composition, performance, sounds and images. Welcoming the idea, I took this two-compact-disc venture with me in the car, on my drive to work: one-CD-each-way... You may think this is a sacrilege, and that music ought to be savored in the secluded atmosphere of one's music room, with good stereo equipment, and in contemplative silence - not with the accompaniment of a car engine! True (and I did that, too), but also dead wrong. Music exists in the world, which also includes our world, where we belong each and every day of our lives. For many of us, thinking musically has nothing to do with contemplation. Moreover, contemplation may have very little to do with silence. Just like Kostabi's visual art, his music needs to be placed within the boundaries of reality, of modernity and consumption: there where the extraordinaire thrives. Reality also includes nature, even when experienced from behind the windshield of a car. It turns out that my world these days is not so distant from that of Mark Kostabi's childhood and youth. In fact, the music of New Alliance radiates meaningfulness even when "consumed" during my drive down California Highway 1, from the city of San Francisco to the University f California at Santa Cruz. The descriptive titles of Kostabi's pieces sometimes match the landscape: Hidden Canyon, Cliff Notes, 1000 Kites, Red Leaves, Exploding Sky... The variable lengths, the melodic contrasts, the sudden rhythmic turns and the oblique harmonies of his music seem to be wrapped around the hills of the California coast, and certainly roll in the surf of the Pacific waves. All is placid, at first. Here is the sky, and here is the horizon; and here are the notes, so simple and crystal clear, over the surface of the keyboard. Delilah Gutman's seemingly "innocent" interpretations (and incisive tributes) are keenly aware of this apparent simplicity, and lay out Mark Kostabi's sounds as little pearls in a necklace. Yet, at each turn of the road, the music shifts lanes offering a new surprise, and its developments often are less reassuring than they deceivingly promised at first. Deceit is a good thing in art (in love, only at times), and the music of New Alliance is bountiful in this realm. This music lures its listeners, capturing their ears and prompting them to envision reality through a glistening surface, which is also a looking glass. This is music that will certainly mislead the critics, since it puns, playing with genres and labels, and swings freely across the canonized definitions of Minimalism, of (Neo-)Romanticism or (as this "critic" humbly suggests) of (Neo-)Impressionism. This is music that suddenly turns on its heels and changes direction, as if to cry: "No, no longer!" It then stops, truncating emotions and releasing the longing; or it changes its registers, mixing emotions, and inevitably creating panic. Like the placid surf of the Pacific, which is deadly to thousands, or the long flat waves of the Adriatic, where children bathe unaware.