A short but very significant album for cello, double bass and processed voice. Divided into three parts, the music is mostly based on the quivering growl of Duch’s arcoed bass, which in “En” occupies ample spaces with a continuum of disturbed stasis. The deep, cavernous resonance of the strings prevents any light from entering the picture, keeping the overall atmosphere extremely gloomy and restrained. Veliotis’ cello is more prominent in “Tre”: less harsh than in the first track, the breathing qualities of the respective timbres dance around very close intervallic designs, nearing the whole to areas not too distant from La Monte Young and Tony Conrad, even if Mark Wastell’s liners indicate Giacinto Scelsi and Tod Dockstader as influences. In each one of the three pieces, Kaasboll’s voice comes and goes, in and out the frame, acting like an instrumental “presence” that blemishes an otherwise immaculate entity; her looped utterances and guttural emissions can sound like a distant wind or a leaking tube, mixing well with the sense of incumbency generated by Duch and Veliotis. “Seks” closes the disc with a faraway menace, Veliotis’ hypnotic drone trying to calm down a beast fed on low-frequency harmonics. Kaasboll seems to observe from behind a wall, trembling and sighing because of the environment’s coldness. This is a scary, magnificent release graced by a splendid title.