In actuality, Eris 136199 is the trio’s denomination. Yet I wanted prospective listeners to immediately focus on its components, unless they’re familiar with their inaugural release (2015’s Anomic Aphasia, on Slam). This coalition of a pair of unruly guitars and a tenor saxophone eschews immoderation and superabundance of startling surprises, only because the musicians have chosen to survey other avenues of acrid timbral contiguity. It’s still unconventional music, mostly with a strong skeleton.
Sikora’s phraseology hides a “lead singer” character of sorts. She merges pure improvisation with jazz-derived issues, sometimes in peremptory manners. Park and Didkovsky provide the mineral constituents, the strings of processed/overdriven guitars emanating scents of rust and grime at nearly every juncture. One must never forget the different trajectories of each member’s earlier projects; by connecting the (coherent) dissimilarities, a clearer idea of what happens materializes pretty soon.
Picture two grumpy elderlies endowed with youthful arguteness, sustaining a conversation in which there seems to be no opening whatsoever to bright visions of peacefulness. It’s a persistent burbling of memories and conjectures revealing decades of accumulated experiences and data, not fully untangled, with a definite explosive potential. At times a need arises to recapitulate a bit; the interplay becomes less loaded, the fingers caressing and cherry picking rather than snapping and ripping. Sikora is practically flawless in oscillating between the roles of moderator and source of linear alternatives. Her jargon is fluid, quasi-effortless, deprived of angst in spite of the occasional labyrinthine reiterations and squiggling restlessness.
Notwithstanding the album’s substantial duration, staying immersed within its surges and (often troubled) currents is not hard at all. My own sensation was not that of the proverbial silver ball in a pinball machine; more like trying to raft over the waters of a boiling river. Either way, the advice is: don’t limit yourselves to a single spin. It takes time to decode the innumerable micro-messages smuggled herein.
MASSIMO RICCI. TOUCHING EXTREMES. 