#maromas

The disc brims and bristles with similar moments. “A la vuelta de Greenwich” begins with the grinding of what sounds like processed  soprano saxophone which then dips and dives forward with Lopez’s response, delivered in swooping curves. It’s so tempting to pull a Hendrix or Prince sonic reference or two out of Laubrock’s quasi-linear distorto-shredding, but her playing is equally atomistic, evident as “Fabulations” stutters onward. The collaborators occupy an entirely different space in “Don’t Believe It”’s murky opening drones, shards and atoms replaced by sustains while the minuscule elements of microtone and breath vanguard themselves with startling clarity. Each overtone and harmonic bubbles to the surface of a brew equal parts spice and strength and garnished with amplified attacks and piquant saxophone scales at an almost tender volume.

It would be difficult to imagine a more symbiotic approach to duetting. The players’ respective sound pallets are remarkably close, unnervingly integrated in terms of articulation and sonic envelope. If the opening conglomerate of “I Don’t See It” doesn’t convince, as it inhabits a shuddering world of rhythmic ambiguity even as pitches swirl in and out of distorted focus, nothing will. Best of all though, the sounds are all but bone-dry. So many electroacoustic collaborations rely far too heavily on reverb and delay, presumably to enhance repetition. They travel down long corridors of memory, their edges and intimacies obscured to the point of ineffectuality. Laubrock and Lopez confidently square each gesture against a backdrop of something that isn’t really silence but often threatens to be. Each musician’s prickly and mellifluous spontaneities hit the ear with a stunning directness that adds to their musicality and allows all of that precious counterpoint to be heard. Repeated audition shows the moments of freedom to be components of a larger and wonderfully formed dialogue fashioned of concise and adventurous interactions, each moment a kind of aphoristic poetry in sound as direct as it is poignant.