Mark Wastell assembled an 11-piece consort (himself, Tetuzi Akiyama, Rhodri Davies, Benedict Drew, Michael Duch, Graham Halliwell, Paul Hood, Annette Krebs, Mattin, Andrea Neumann, Nishide Takehiro) and chose a beautiful title for this short exhalation of painful quietness, recorded in a room where instrumental voices blur their echoes until they become a single entity. It all starts with sparse indecisions and calculated yet unfinished movements, the musicians exploring silence only to break it with almost undetectable ripples of indetermination. After a while, the small electroacoustic creature stabilizes its biorhythms by excluding the percussive aspect almost entirely, except for string plucking and some muffled thud. Feedback and enigmatic resonance become the guidelines in a succession of involuntary strategies culminating with the restoration of more irregular, noisier factors around the 20-minute mark. The “play-with-others’-shadow” game of subtraction amidst a reticent, slightly broken collective composure lingers on, leaving all our perceptive corridors with their doors ajar; the final minute registers a terminal growth of intensity, the signature of a fine blend of talents gathered under the same aura.