There was a time, and it wasn't so long ago, that a trio performance with this instrumentation could never have sounded as good as it does in this 2022 live recording. Engineers are able to capture playing of this nuance and power with extraordinary accuracy, and it shows on one of the most humorously titled albums to cross this writer's desk in some time! Yes, one might very well imagine somebody in the audience requesting something a little closer to silence, exclamation marks included for good measure, but delving below the music's rough and volatile surfaces reveals nuance and diversity a plenty.
This stuff can be abrasive, there's no question about it, and a look at the participants list will say as much. It's the way sounds emerge though, the declamatory ferocity with which they shatter their contexts, like elongated percussive squeak and rasp 15:39 into the first of these two epic improvisations. Yes, those squeaks had imbued the texture with their dark slatey energy for some time before, but the rasp in question is particularly sonorous, ripping the surrounding sounds to shreds before giving way to a metallic thwack of whimsically Gargantuan proportions. Speaking of rapid-fire interruptions, who is bowing 13:14 into the first piece, and what is being bowed? It may be Moore, but I'm not prepared to take that to court! The effect is raw, brutal and loads of fun as Hirose's saxophone and Imai's throaty guitar shriek and warble ascent by turn.
None of this music is for the faint of heart. It bristles with energy far enough from furtive to be disconcerting, but just when eardrums threaten to implode, when the cacophony of it all seems ready to dissolve the speakers, all recedes. The beauty of the quietest moments is beyond description. Listen to Imai's note following note, dyad in communion with dyad, at the first piece's 18:50 mark. Instances like this, where loop upon loop offers up counterpoint of the most exquisite and protean variety, put everything else into a fresh context. Don't allow yourself to become too deeply immersed, as Moore's crescendo, ending at 20:36, accompanied by Imai's increasingly energetic lines, ensures that the respite is only momentary. The best part about these calm interjections is that they defy predictability. They enable a form to be created that's different than the standard "free-jazz" arc far too often a crutch for improvising musicians. The music is better for such islands of calm and their antipodes, all crashing forward in lopsided dialectic to create an album of excitement flecked with danger!
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