Elia Aregger is a Swiss guitarist whose album Live came out in the
opening hours of 2025. Like some other European guitartists, like Kali kalima
and Jakob Bro, Aregger seems to have ingested and integrated a
particularly American guitar vernacular created by, among many other, Bill
Frisell, John Abercrombie, and even Pat Metheny, and transformed it into
something expressive and new. When I first heard Aregger, I thought maybe I
stumbled on a forgotten Power Tools-era Frisell album. By no means, however, is the recording bound to the past, rather it feels both reassuringly familiar and yet infused with discovery at its heart.
Live opens in a suspenseful mood and then opens wide with a hopeful flowing melody line. The keyword is flowing. The rhythm
sways gently between Marius Sommer's light touch on the bass and the forward leaning pulse of Alessandro Alarcon's drums. The flow increases and the rhythm tightens as the
guitar transforms, now distorted and dangerous, the whole mood shifts.
The next song, 'B or D' begins more aggressively than the opener: a gently distorted guitar plays a dripping melodic line decorated with chordal fragments, and the bass and drums are still light but insistent, helping give the
spartan guitar parts motion and fullness. Like the previous track, this one
also builds to a rocking section, but which only lasts long enough
to make an impression, then the tension is pulled back. The follow up track is a
ballad entitled 'Martha,' which as one may imagine, again flows, but now
gently, laced with traces of dissonance and hopeful intervals.
This is much more to be heard, but the basic components are already in place:
patient, spacious melodic lines, precisely layered tensions, dabs of colorful
distortion and sympathetic interplay between the three players.
Trio of Bloom - s/t (Pyroclastic, 2025)
So, this one is not really a "guitar trio" in the sense that the guitar is the
leader, rather it's a full on collaboration, which critic Nate Chinen has called a "new-groove
supergroup" -- which is both kind of fun and kind of true. This first time
meeting of guitarist Nels Cline, keyboardist Craig Taborn and drummer Marcus
Gilmore certainly has groove at its heart.
The album kicks off with a cover of Ronald Shannon-Jackson’s
‘Nightwhistlers’ that shimmers and shutters with an antsy pulse and electronic
twists, and is bookended by a cover of Terje Rypdal’s ‘Bend It,’ which offers
a much different kind of straight‑ahead driving beat, along with allusions to
Rypdal’s signature soaring lines. The tracks in between all seem to flower in their own way. Especially the
second track, Taborn's 'Unreal Light,' which unfolds slowly, first in
stretching, legato glistening tones, then transmogrifying into a lithe
rhythmic piece with Cline improvising a melodic dance. Then, there is the
10-minute freely improvised ‘Bloomers,' in which where Cline and Taborn’s edgy
sonic textures intertwine with Gilmore’s fluid, morphing pulses, propelling
the music into a exploration of dark electrified grooves.
Trio of Bloom, with a name that recalls the short-lived collaboration between
John McLaughlin, Jaco Pastorius and Tony Williams, but with an actual
connection to the power-trio Power Tools via their shared producer David
Breskin, is a true aural treat. Take your time with it, let it take root and
blossom.
Marcelo dos Reis' Flora - Our Time (JACC, 2025)
Portuguese guitarist Marcelo dos Reis' Flora is a bona fide guitar led trio.
Sure, it is a collaboration of excellent musicians, but the concept
and compositions are from the guitarist's creative musings. I first
encountered the group on their debut recording from 2023, which you can check
out here and thoroughly enjoy this follow-up release. I feel it would be a slight
conflict of interest for me to properly review the album as I contributed the liner-notes, which you can find on Bandcamp. I will, however, quote
myself to save you a click:
So, here we have the trio's sophomore recording, Our Time, and it
more than picks up where the last one ended. There is more cohesion to the
compositions, but they are also more complex and with a bit more nuance and
contrast. It likely reflects the confidence they have gained after the
fifty some-odd gigs that they've played since the first release, as well
as something new in dos Reis' compositions. "I think this one is more
open and adventurous in some way," explains the guitarist. "The repertoire
from the first record grew up so much live after the recording, and when I
started composing for this second one, I decided to open the music up more
than on the first record."
Let us investigate, starting with
the perfectly appointed opening track "Irreversible Light." The track
loses no time announcing its intentions on seering its energy into your
ears. Each step of the song, from the double stop theme over the urgent
bass and drums to the sudden melodic twist introducing the solos, it is
an exciting piece of hard rocking jazz that fits perfectly together.
Do yourself a favor, click on the play button below and enjoy:
These two recent recordings are linked by the presence of Portuguese
guitarist Abdul Moimême, but more than that,
each is a masterful work of inspired collective improvisation, each a work
of hive mind, achieving a collective synergy so close-knit, one in which
initiating impulses and successive responses are so closely interwoven --
perhaps impossible to assign -- that they might be the work of a multi-armed
and multi-mouthed deity, a figure playing numerous instruments at an
initiation into the mysteries.
Dissection Room (Albert Cirera/ Abdul Moimême/
Álvaro Rosso) - Live at Penhasco (discordian records, 2025)
Dissection Room first formed in Lisbon in 2017, combining Moimême, Spanish
saxophonist Albert Cirera and Uruguayan bassist Alvaro Rosso. This is their second CD, following the
eponymous release of a 2017 concert, Creative Sources 549CD. At the root of
the trio’s mystery there is Rosso. His instrument will suggest foundation,
stability and form, even those players in the virtuosic lineage, but Rosso
is also an agent of chaos – his contribution a chain of disruptions:
claw-like plucking of multiple strings, quivering bowed harmonics, his sound
amplified or closely miked, bass grit ground out at the frog of the bow,
tones seemingly echoing backward as well as forward. Cirera’s soprano and
tenor saxophones provide strong central voices, whether or not they are
altered with various objects and insertions; at one point there is a
continuous line suspended between saxophone timbre and a violin. Moimême’s
instrument is the soul of unpredictability, frustrating even identification:
two horizontal guitars, one a radically evolved baritone of his own design,
with extensive electronics and preparations and striking devices.
Distinctive individual events from any of the three occur amidst a dense
field of quivering sound, the act of distinguishing events and individual
contributions only clouding the listener’s essential immersion in the
collective work’s unfolding, the miracle of collaboration that take place
here.
Wade Matthews, Abdul Moimême, Luz Prado- Trust
from Intimacy (scatter archive. 2025)
The trio of sound artist Matthews, Moimême and
violinist Luz Prado is a merger of two pre-existing duos, Matthews and
Moimême, Matthews and Prado. If anything, it
takes the elements of synthesis and mystery even further than Dissection
Room’s Live at Penasco, for Matthews represents the same scale of
sonic variety and invention (timbral, contrapuntal, environmental) as
Moimême. My early descriptions of Moimême’s work
included metaphors of train stations in outer space. The same qualities of
mystery. energy and inclusive terrain are even more evident here, with all
the partners contributing to the mystery, whether it’s Matthews’ wandering
sound samples (at one point documentation of a recorded voice will appear,
then move from natural timbre to Disney Duck range) or Prado’s exacting
imaginings of alien insect voices. This is not a trio but an orchestra,
operating both in the internal world of dream in collision and in imaginings
of outer space, the nervous system and the overlapping voices of distant
radio frequencies. At every turn, every dance of drama, mystery and eerie,
speculative glissando or rattle, this work moves both further in, to the
echoing songs of the subconscious, and further out, where elastic string
harmonics fade into twilight. The work’s complexity, its invocation of both
lived in spaces and/or psychic realms, both evades description or synthesis,
demanding listening.
When two of free improvisation's leading musicians meet, the outcome is guaranteed to be outstanding, as it is on this album. The performance took place at the exceptional venue of a French vineyard Le Chai at the Domaine "Les Davids" in Viens, France, as part of a festival. The venue and the audience play a role here. That quality of the sound is excellent. It's as if you're part of the audience.
Even if both musicians have performed a lot before in various trios and quartets, I think this is their first duo album. And we can only hope they do this more often.
Léandre’s bowed bass and Parker’s extended, circular-breathing lines are central to the music’s character. Their sounds meet and intertwine—merging, co-creating, and coalescing, or at times clashing, challenging, and competing—driving both players into uncharted sonic territories that surprise, perplex, and ultimately move us as listeners. A second factor is the unwavering self-assurance and near-complete absence of self-consciousness that defines their music. Each musician respects—and even admires—the other, yet this is matched by full confidence in their own instrumental voice.
As a result, every option remains open, and almost any improvisational path they choose naturally becomes part of the other’s comfort zone—because operating without a safety net is the environment in which they thrive. It is at moments not only spectacular, but also extremely beautiful.
The liner notes contain a quote from each musician that basically says it all. Joëlle Léandre: "No writing, no conductor, no leader, man or woman, style or age… Improvisation is about the risk that we take and what we have to say, here and now." and Evan Parker: "Certain kinds of speed, flow, intensity, density of attacks, density of interaction... Music that concentrates on those qualities is, I think, easier achieved by free improvisation between people sharing a common attitude, a common language."
Absolute freedom anchored in a common attitude.
Brilliant!
John Butcher & John Edwards - This Is Not Speculation (Fundacja Słuchaj, 2025)
John Butcher & John Edwards have been performing together for decades, in more than sixteen documented ensembles, yet this is only their third duo album, after "Optic" (2003) and "Scene and Recalled" (2020). The performance is intimate, close to the listener too, for four tracks with a lot of variety and sonic creativity, ranging from sensitive interaction to wild timbral explorations, birdsong, frivolous excursions and playful moments.
Both Johns are so attuned to each other’s playing that almost anything becomes possible—even welcomed. Muted, percussive bass plucks or stuttering, breathy saxophone sounds all find their place within an ever-shifting, kaleidoscopic soundscape, as do high-pitched whistles or even the occasional steady bass pulse. And sometimes you wish you could have seen the performance just to understand how they physically generated very contrasting sounds. In a way the whole concert is art reduced to its pure and concrete nature: to create something ethereal, fragile and touching out of sheer physical activity.
The music demands close attention. Anything can happen at any moment, and both musicians seem to be constantly inventing and reinventing themselves—introducing new ideas, new challenges, and weaving their thoughts together with an effortless sense of mutual understanding. Whatever direction the music turns, they navigate it together. It’s fun, and it’s fascinating to hear. They clearly relish their own abilities and their deep appreciation of each other’s strengths.
I asked John Butcher to explain the title: "Speculation means when you make a decision on something without there being any real evidence for the decision. The title was meant to suggest that - yes, this is improvised, and we move freely as the music is made, but we do know what we are doing (after all these years) ..."
And trust me ... they know what they are doing. Enjoy!
The performance was recorded live at the Einstein Kultur in Munich on October 8, 2023.
The liner notes of this album consist of the Bill Dixon quote above. It's a nice and enigmatic statement, one you can long reflect upon: what does it actually mean? This sense of mystery and wonder permeates the music on this album, a duet between long-time collaborators Alexander Hawkins on piano and Taylor Ho Bynum on cornet and flugelhorn. This is already the third great trumpet piano duo that we can recommend this year, together with Sylvie Courvoisier and Wadada Leo Smith with "Angel Falls" and Satoko Fujii and Natsuki Tamura with "Ki", "Aloft" and "Kazahana".
The pianist and cornettist have had a long-standing collaboration with the excellent Convergence Quartet, with Dominic Lash on bass and Harris Eisenstadt on drums, with several easy to recommend albums: "Live in Oxford" (2007), "Song/Dance" (2010), "Slow and Steady" (2013) and "Owl Jacket" (2015).
“A Near Permanent State of Wonder” fully delivers on the promise of its title. Anchored around two Bill Dixon compositions—“Q” and “X”—Hawkins crafts delicate, spacious pieces that feel intimate, tender, and perfectly suited to Ho Bynum’s warm, expressive horn tone. The abstract framework of the music is full of bright openings that let the light and the outside world filter in, creating room for lyrical exploration. The ensemble’s technical palette is broad and eclectic, blending elements of jazz, free improvisation, and classical chamber music into something that resists easy classification. The result is music that flows with quiet, effortless grace. That doesn’t mean there aren’t moments of raw intensity or surges in volume.
On the last two tracks - "Catalogue (part 2)" and the title track, Hawkins plucks the half-muted strings of his instrument rhythmically like a percussion instrument comparable to Benoît Delbecq's sound, while Ho Bynum's initial growls and squeaks gradually evolve into a more coherent phrasing supported by the pianist's right hand working on the higher notes. The album ends with a repetitive rhythm on the strings, and a subdued lyrical improvisation of the cornet. A beauty.
We have been privileged with great music this year. This is definitely an album to cherish.
The third album of Taxi Consilium comes in its own shape. Just like how the
first two are completely different from each other, this one also arrives as
a whole new version of the quartet.
From the very beginning, the album leans into longer drone sounds, the bass
resembles the tone of artists like Peter Eldh with those deep, heavy bass
lines. What connects all of their albums is that the rhythm section always
feels heavy and deep, while the guitar and bass clarinet have a more playful
energy on top.
Every track holds an emotion that’s tightly connected to its name. The names
seem carefully chosen, almost as if they guide the way one should feel the
music. What the band has written in their description really explains why
every track carries so much inside it. Imagine yourself as a taxi driver,
collecting stories from different people, and as an empath, being able to
feel their pain. Every track is a different ride. Sometimes you collect
sadness and melancholy, and sometimes you get a sense of relief.
The third track — Mouths moving but nothing coming out — gives off a
soothing vibe. It feels like finding your own value, no matter how much the
mouths move; what really matters is what’s being heard. In this kind of
instrumental music, mouths don’t matter at all, it’s the sound that heals
the soul, helping you come back to your own truth.
The enjoyment that Taxi Consilium’s music gives is very rare, something you
don’t get from many full albums anymore. For me, it’s been a while since I
could listen to an album and vibe with every single track. It’s got that
underground, dirty sound, yet it’s deeply satisfying for the mind. Usually,
when I listen to an album, one track immediately becomes my favorite. But
with this one, it was hard to pick.
Still, as the longest one, I’m choosing [orel cat at the door]. It’s another
unusual moment for this kind of jazz record, the track starts with a long
ambient intro (and a cat sample, but pretty enjoyable for cat lovers). If I
connect this to what I mentioned earlier about the taxi driver collecting
stories, this track feels like the longest ride, and definitely the
strangest. Maybe a mysterious cat-person is in the taxi. Not the playful
child from “children longing for discipline,” but a mystic, someone with a
deep inner world. When I write about Macedonian releases, I often try to
point to something from the surroundings that might have inspired the
artists, since I’ve felt those environmental influences very deeply myself.
This one definitely comes from nature. It has an organic, earthy feel, and
its slowness captures all those sunsets on mildly rainy days out in the
open.
After that, the album continues with the familiar Taxi Consilium energy,
that uplifting rush they bring to every live show. If you’ve seen them play,
you know exactly what I mean: the joy and intensity they create wherever
they go.
Possibly the best Macedonian release of the year so far, Workin’ for the
other side — even though it carries the name of a snitch, feels like it’s
got a bright future. One of the most innovative bands to appear on the
scene, making music that’s entirely erratic, with every instrument uniquely
voiced by its player.
Umbra III is the fifth record by Umbra, the duo of Elias Stemeseder
(spinet, electronics) and Christian Lillinger (drums and electronics). This
time they have thrown pianist Craig Taborn into the mix, who blends
wonderfully into their tense, avant-garde soundworld. The album is a live
recording at the 2021 International Jazzfestival Saalfelden in Austria, but
it is studio quality, and the audience are so attentive you could hear a pin
drop.
As with much of the music coming out of Central Europe at the moment, the
listener is left wondering what is improvised and what is composed, such is
the way these elements seem to blur and merge with one another. Their
integration feels completely organic as they are swallowed up by Lillinger’s
frenetic percussion. You almost have to wonder whether this music even
needs
composed elements, as the music has such a fluid shape and the musicians
such a strong sense of the world they wish to conjure.
Lillinger’s drumming provides a complex texture: this is an ensemble very
much of equals rather than a hierarchy in any sense. It may be better to
think of the music as three percussionists; Stemeseder and Taborn both
approach their instruments in that sense rather than a melodic or harmonic
one, contributing to a sense of drive that is present throughout the record.
The record maintains this momentum even during the sparser moments, the
textures overlapping like musical tides, and at no point is any musician in
the foreground; each musician contributes equally to the unified texture.
This kind of ‘textural’ improvised music isn’t for everyone, but this record
is a good example of how much tension can be built even when the musicians
don’t seem to be actively resisting one another. It isn’t a demonstration of
technique (impressive as all three musicians are), but the production of a
soundworld. The music never really slows down, or at least never for long,
and nor does it ever become explosive, leaving me to wonder at points
whether the record has quite enough variety. The second, much shorter, track
‘TYPUS’ felt to me too similar to the first improvisation, almost a reprise.
But nonetheless, the attentive listener will find a close listen very
rewarding, as the details make for some very compelling music. The musicians
are interacting at the microscopic level, which gives a sense of deep
synchronicity. It is therefore music which requires full attention for its
subtlety to be appreciated.
I don’t want to seem like I’m setting up a strawman, but recordings with
titles like this, positing a tangible connection between Our Kind of Music
and the blues often leave me asking questions. In this case, those questions
would be
“Hey, what do you mean by Modicum?”
and
“Also, what do you mean Blues?”
There is, of course, no I-IV-V-ing going on—that would be an
abundance
of blues—and it’s more than a mere spiritual nodding—which would be a
smidgeon
. The modicum given to us by this collective of free improvisers comes in
the form of phrases, allusions, and techniques. It’s quite splendid,
actually.
For example, when Perelman and Wooley trade phrases call-and-response-ishly,
an uncanny resonance sends me back through the 20th century. They play
phrases or fragments of phrases, trumpet and reeds, that hearken as far back
as the sections of Basie and Ellington. I hear a string of notes on this
recording, and then I can hear it in the voices of Harry Edison and
Paul Gonsalves. I wouldn’t put money on it, but even the timbre of these
sections sometimes comes across with a pre-Coltrane fullness. These are
flashes, of course, sunny forest glens in the rocky terrain of their free
blowing, but it has an impact, and, while the two landscapes are different,
they are connected and always have been.
Tom Rainey and Mark Helias have become, for me, the best drum/bass team
since Dave Holland and Barry Altschul. I’ve had cause to praise each
separately in these pages in the past, now I can celebrate them together.
The reference to Holland/Altschul, of course, isn’t a shallow one. Those two
giants were central to Anthony Braxton’s mid-seventies quartet masterpieces
( Five Pieces 1975 and New York Fall 1974) another uncanny
set of music that showed us early on blues and Our Kind of Music in
conversation.
Matt Moran, finally, is the MVP of this All-Star Team. The vibes do seem to
be having a moment, but even in the current context, Moran’s playing had an
especially magical effect on me, beautiful and gnarled simultaneously, and
recorded wonderfully. It brought to mind—and I am not making this up—Milt
Jackson’s playing on that great Miles Davis and the Jazz Giants set with
“Bag’s Groove” and “The Man I Love.” Jackson is, not incidentally, the
greatest of the blues vibraphonists, but also stunning and subtle and an
absolutely necessary part of that early masterpiece’s success. The same can
be said here of Moran.
The wonder of A Modicum of Blues isn’t in its references to the
past or conversations with blues and jazz history, but the title does invite
you to make those connections. Even without those, however, the five part
suite is a five-star achievement—which feels almost obvious given the
players involved. This is a run-don’t-walk situation. As I said, 5-stars.
While not free jazz or sonically adventuresome per se, the music on Vio
3iO’s Viology possesses a modern character that delivers intriguing and
intense head-nodding vibes. A trio, ViO 3iO features Anthony Davis on drums,
Andor Horvath on bass, and Viktor Haraszti on saxophone and electronics.
Haraszti also composed the six tunes found on the album.
The album kicks off with “Bird of Passage.” Its driving beat provides
Haraszti the foundation for his Coltrane-ish sax explorations. Davis’s soul
searching on drums are also of note here – his precise taps on the snare and
his drum rolls keeps the tune sliding rambunctiously along. On “Digital
Samsara,” Davis keeps a steady but wildly syncopated beat behind Haraszti’s
stark yet beautiful full-throated lines. Listen to how the ghostly
apparitions created by the electronics weave in and out of the funky
undertow, and how the electronics evolve into an almost Bach-like fugue.
Then there’s the title cut, “Viology,” which evokes a dark blue night.
Haraszti’s bugle sax line buzzes atop the funk – a hard bop sax line
skipping along a funky maelstrom like a stone skimming the surface of water.
On “The Disappearing Real,” the musicians create a foggy ambiance that
develops into a cool blues walk. On “Echoes of Now,” Horvath uses the bow to
create a sense of foreboding beneath the electronics and Haraszti offers up
a soliloquy of legato full-bodied notes that become more active as the piece
progresses and the intensity grows. Finally, on “Analog Prayers,” the trio
create a landscape that evokes a desert passage through undulating dunes
that stretch off to the horizon.
The tunes found on Viology offer a refreshing take on using music
to create modern and transcendent atmospheres. The trio’s tasteful
articulation of evocative themes demonstrates an ability to create an
alignment of unsettling tension and beguiling beauty.
If writing about a solo recording, of any kind of instrumentation, is a
difficult task, one can imagine the difficulties that exist in creating solo
music. Talking about the former, writing about it, always revolves around
the fear that you might not get, understand, realize or whatever, what the
artist has in mind. The former seems to me much more frightening: the artist
must overcome any kind of fear, present the music as it is without the
safety the other contributors always offer. It is the artists’ bare truth
alone.
Jean-Luc Guionnet never seemed to have second thoughts about going into
unknown territories. To be honest here, he seems fearless. Starting as s
free jazz saxophonist, he quickly stepped into the shaky ground of free
improvisation. But not only that, he has been, for some years now,
experimenting outside his respected instrument, the saxophone, building a
trajectory of sounds that are as free as possible.
Here, on this live recording, he uses his alto saxophone as a medium of
exploration. Ok, I understand that the former sentence could sound like one
of those “heavy” descriptions when talking about experimental music. Quite
often stale, sterile sounds are hidden behind descriptions as such. But,
this is not the case. On both tracks, that are live recordings from 2023 and
2024, Guionnet seems to enjoy his struggle…Because it is a struggle, an
exploration of physical endurance. The first track last 36 long minutes
making it clear to the listener that he is in there to exhaust himself,
leave him breathless at the end while building sounds that are personal and
full of emotions.
In addition, made clearer at the second track I believe, he is looking for a
way to explore the dynamics of the room, where space, air and his grasp of
the instrument combine into frenzied attempts. As a listener you have the
notion that you, with your ears, are checking out this space, listening on
how the sounds come to you from different angles.
Solo saxophone recordings have always been a field of very interesting
experimentation by a number of artists. Some of them have made it clear that
there are no boundaries for the capabilities of the saxophone. Along with
the willingness of its creator to do so, this cd is one of them.
The Ava Trio comprises Giuseppe Doronzo on baritone saxophone, fluxophone,
mizmar, and gong, Esat Ekincioglu on double bass, and Pino Basile on
Cupaphon (friction drums) and percussion. They have been together for a
decade.
Their fifth album Lunae is on Tora Records, and the recording is a
wonderful, atmospheric creation, not least because of the acoustic qualities
added to the recording by it taking place in an ancient trullo in Apulia,
Southern Italy. A trullo is a conical limestone chamber that became the
band’s fourth instrument in the recording, with its echoes and
reverberations sent back to the musicians.
Recorded in Apulia, southern Italy, inside a centuries-old trullo — a
conical limestone chamber that became the band’s fourth instrument. Lunae is a site-specific, archeo-musicological exploration of sound and space. The
album evolved from Doronzo’s composition ‘Sabbatical.’
Across six lunar phases, the three musicians trace forgotten moon rituals
where sound and silence return in cycles or phases.
The opening phase (Phasis 1) is an extensive exploration of mostly
percussive sounds, from the plucked bass to the percussion and sax
intonations, the sound circling and returning in a complex pattern, often
the phrasing interweaving with the next phrase as it is issued. The effect
is intense and deeply evocative. The way the chamber echoes the sound back
sounds primal, naturalist, and powerful.
Phasis II is shorter, but no less atmospheric, with more saxophone, adding
to the vibrations and intensity of the texturally layered sound depths. The
double bass and saxophone inadvertently (or deliberately) cross paths both
in notation and tone, creating areas where the tone is incredibly rich and
the unrelenting percussive element from both strings and drums is mesmeric.
Phase III is atmospheric, with sustained notes creating suspension and
plinky, warping sonic effects, while Phasis IV is a continuation of Phasis
III but transcends into a more melodic exploration at times, underpinned
with rasping strings, and pithy sax. Phasis V is a slow build, but once it
evolves out of the void, it is superb, and Phasis VI continues the
exploration of percussion, deep bass, and other-worldly effects.
Full Moon, November AD 283
Beneath the moon’s gaze,
olive-oil workers gather in secret,
within the limestone walls of a trullo.
Their chants and rhythms spiral upward,
a devotion carved in sound,
vanishing into the night yet circling forever
Because of its unique sonic actions and the provision of textures and
resonance by the very chamber of the recording, it is difficult to describe
exactly the effect this music has. Played by the trio alone, the sound would
be intriguing and, as always, an explorative listen, but coupled with the
characteristics imparted by the limestone chamber, which feels like it
absorbs the sound and then throws it back changed, the listening experience
is incredible.