At Point No Point, near Jordan River on the west coast of Vancouver Island, the ocean tides converge. There is a primordial remoteness to this rugged place, the scattering of great rocks around which sea currents collide. Here the American composer Paul Cantelon found ultimate inspiration for his solo piano works of the same name, the songs of Point No Point having traveled a long distance before reaching their final destination. Listening to them, I imagine a journey that begins on a sleepy side street in lower Manhattan. Music can be heard through an open apartment window, Eric Satie perhaps, or Debussy. There are ships in the harbor and the brick and cobblestone are warmed by the late afternoon sun. Paul Cantelon’s compositions have this power of atmosphere, creating pictures from notes, startling clear and tangible. If photographed they would be black and white or sepia, Walker Evans or Robert Frank. Playing these pieces one has the sense of both fulfillment and giving, of joining in a story’s telling. Every measure is rich and satisfying; a convergence of tides and influences in a collection of songs that will be remembered and loved for generations.