Marco Colonna: clarinets; Agustí Fernández: piano, prepared piano
The header might translate from Spanish as “mess” or “chaos”, yet there’s more bluesy poetry in Colonna and Fernández’s actions than in many improvisation-based releases I’ve met in the last couple of years. One can envisage both artists taking time to sniff the air and smile at each other ahead of committing themselves to their conjunct vision; the lengthy durations of all the seven tracks imply that this is not a wham-bam-thankyou-ma’am kind of a meeting. Explorations variable in order of magnitude and soul-driven propulsion, a coherent homogeneousness characterizing the timbral appearance; now and again, a musician may remain alone for a few instants before the fellow traveler rejoins the intuitive flow. The intersections of unwilled contrary motions and suspensive lines appear as the logical upshot of similar ways of thinking, the duo bathing the waters of perspicacious contrapuntal speculations according to which an implicit design seems to be kept in mind while soaring through the unconscious. The concepts are always expressed quite politely: no insolent chatter, no prevarications. Fernández circles around the vague borders of silent concordance at the end of “Trio For Two”, then hits the strings hard at the beginning of the subsequent “After The Pause”. Colonna displays aurally charming proportions and classy starkness when exposing atonal complications, but manages to touch the heart in depth when letting his clarinet cry tears of sorrowful awareness in the title track. Ultimately, this music – apparently conceived with a fundamental idea of restraint even in the most agitated sections – leaves hints of strong-mindedness and clarity of conceptions, employing the wholeness of 70 minutes to reward a diligent listener with plenty of high-quality interplay frequently permeated by a much welcome constitutional tenderness.