Even the best free improvisation is hit or miss. Disregard for the listener is implicit. On the other hand, most fans of the music understand and even respect such self-indulgence. They know if they’re willing to slog through the dross, they’re bound to stumble upon something revelatory. This album begs such consideration. The seven-part title suite that opens it has plenty of dross: namely, an exploitation of the noisiest, most abrasive, biting-on-tinfoil sounds from Fernandez’s prepared piano and Kowald’s bass. Other episodes, however, transcend novelty and verge on the sublime.
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