Calvin Trillin in the New Yorker — "Listening to the album back then, Chrisemer had a strong suspicion why the music of Othmar Schoeck, a Swiss composer who died in 1957, was not familiar to him. “It was awful,” he told me. “It had no redeeming merit.” Chrisemer was also struck by the fact that Othmar Schoeck, whose picture was on the front of the album, could have been picked out of a large crowd as a Swiss composer of music that made you long for intermission: “He was in the standard pose of the composer leaning on his hand, but he had a rather fleshy face, and some of the flesh was hanging over the tops of his fingers.” Thus doubly inspired, Chrisemer decided that it would be appropriate to try to build Othmar Schoeck a cult following. When I was in college, I could have seen the logic in that myself. I think I can still see the logic in that."