Well, this had to happen, and luckily it has. Evans and Wooley represent the sharpest blades in the most advanced phalanx of trumpet-raping berserk-ness (though they both are totally able of tackling the “regular” aspects of playing without fear of no one). High Society – incorrigible pulmonary anarchy channelled (via hot tubes) into a pair of guitar amplifiers (presumably with the overdrive level set at a nice degree of influence) – belongs to the category of recordings that, depending on the receiving subject, cause three types of outcome. The first is an instantaneous negative response from the incidental by-passers (“What’s this?” “You call that music?” “Can’t you use headphones?” and, after wearing headphones, “You’ll destroy your hearing!”). The second is the anxious will of connecting the improvisations to something already identified, which in this case doesn’t exist. The third (exclusively applicable to the habitués) is the neural reconfiguration caused by the barely credible range of reviving frequencies that the two manage to produce, whose provisional explanation would be pitiable given the sheer quantity of abnormal emissions. Let’s just say that the amplifiers do their work, nasty saturation a stable presence amidst assorted stabs of feedback, vinegary blasts, parallel soliloquies bathed in acid and Donald Duck-to-Linda Blair mutations. Evans and Wooley perform all of the above with near-sadistic gusto. It’s a fairly aggressive record, except for a few moments of relative tranquillity (where, lest someone think about “peace”, the pressure is still felt). But this positive brutality warrants exhilarating consequences for those who come equipped.

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