What an artist like Karl S. Williams proves is that despite birthplace or position, colour or intention, music affirms the notion of universal soul. There is a common thread that binds us and Karl sees it; feels it looped around his wrist, rubbing at his back, spun lightly between his fingers. In the dark and by sunlight he follows it: into people’s ecstasy, across their despair, underwater with their fear, and across the long, dry, plains of their heartbreak.