I was entranced by this categorical uncertainty while plumbing this musical space. An evil presence is here, but it’s rendered soft. The fat of a wild boar pounded to shape. We ascribe a name to the butcher and give him a memory. The flute is a catalyst and very emotional. Hinz’s “Windserie” is full of sweeping gestures, snatched from our grasp at the moment they’re proclaimed. Imploring melismas that are not so much happy or sad as they are brave.