As for the music itself, this new release was recorded in 1976 during a particularly adolescent (read: "how much noise can the audience put up with?") phase of modern jazz. Lacy is at his noisiest and most self-indulgent, alternating honks and squeals with monotonous scalar offerings and repeated snips of melody. Repeated over and over. Until you can't take it any more. In the title track, "snips," for instance, Lacy subjects us to sounds like nails on a chalkboard, a mule, and a squeaky balloon. The music is not atonal, but the notes are deliberately out of tune. Add to this the frequent pauses and disjointed phrasing and you begin to feel that this soloist is practicing rather than performing. His New York audience in the Environ loft space may have been willing to put up with it, but today's jazz fans will say that the emperor, at least on this recording, has no clothes.