Bassist Clayton Thomas is known to wedge a license plate between his strings and lists both Luigi Nono and Ghostface Killah as influences. A search for John Schröder's career shows that he's as respected a jazz guitarist as a drummer as a protégé pianist. Downtown sound by way of Nürnberg Music Conservatory drummer / human metronome Oliver Steidle (currently on permanent tour with trio Der Rote Bereich, then Klima Kalima, et cetera) recently added a Korg Kaoss Pad to his kit. And, from Thelonious Monk tribute bands to interpretations of Cage-esque performance art works to classically trained pianist to adept trombonist to feedback tweaker to trumpeter, Axel Dörner also wears many hats. So you better hang on to yours (you know...your hat?)
Recorded in 2008, the quartet begins "Res Res" with an analog warble and frantic typewriter style metal pings, Schröder quickly adding to the mulch with high-pitched prepared arpeggiations (on this disc, he has a tendency to work towards a centered point as the others push away). As a gradually overwhelming siren-like pulse takes over, bass and drums give into the pianist's whim and move to a brief, speedy segment of polyglot gestures to match that of "Giant Steps"; Dörner puts down the mixing board, picks up the trumpet and joins with a matching set of punctuating blasts. Like an intruding sunspot, the mood is ruptured for a moment with rattling metal (possibly by the license plate); they continue briefly before Schröder adopts a limited range staccato plunk (think toy piano) and Steidle moves to his own corner of contrapuntal minimalism. For the climax, Dörner and Steidle return to the original motif (Schröder advancing alone, now mixing two-part invention with romantic, lounging swagger), then spin a shrunken reduction — turntablist style — through the heart of a piece that travelled from Christian Marclay to Oscar Peterson to Xenakis in under eighteen minutes.
Following suit on the looser "Baby Doll", the group wanders through a lugubrious series of extended techniques and puffing drones, all framed around Thomas's solo flight of texture, harmonics and resonance. Nine minutes in, something slips and on a lark they're back, sort of, bouncing between a tough swing, on-a-dime tempo shifts to a straighter, quicker groove and a mix of both — oh and here comes that swirling, hand-pushed turntable sound to introduce a scene change into even murkier musique concrète / electroacoustic improv. For "Nautic Walking", the quartet straddles their bi-polar approach while adding microbursts of rock and late '80s break-neck hardcore rhythms to the merry go round.
Of course this union is rife with disparate agendas — it should be; but the surprise is how well this internal dissonance (working together by working apart, if you will) galvanizes global accordance and organic progression in the music; with Das Treffen (German for "The Meeting"), diverse individuality gives the album a portentous and distinct personality.
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