Instant creativity should ideally be observed while it happens, for no recorded medium is able to correctly reproduce the exchange of energies that occurs when high-calibre improvisers perform. Still, “The hot days” possesses the qualities of a live album while maintaining the essence of rare, pretty hard to delimit self-generated chamber music. The involved instrumentalists, featured in combinations ranging from duo to quintet, are Dietrich Eichmann (piano, harpsichord, bombarde), Gunnar Brandt-Sigurdsson (hearing aid, vocals, percussion), Michael Griener (drums, percussion), Chris Heenan (alto sax, contrabass clarinet), Alexander Frangenheim (double bass) and Christian Weber (double bass). No need to hide the truth: Eichmann’s procedures are complex, at times utterly impenetrable, mostly revolving around threatening silences only to explode in harsh outbursts and strident confrontations. The obscure crawl at the beginning of “The worm from the void” introduces a radical reshaping of an already bitter reality, dramatically underlined by the juxtaposition between the clarinet’s purring drone and the next-to-Armageddon intimidating mumble of the basses, here co-recruited to enforce the law of “no escape from the inevitable”. The initial “Sweets from above” and “Hot stuff” contain ironic exploitations of Sigurdsson’s electronics, a hearing aid becoming the means for duck-talking and compressed snorting, Eichmann hammering our stupefied reaction with clumsy dissonances produced on industrial scale. At almost 18 minutes, “Five star tragedy” is a histrionic piece where the immaculateness of the artist’s ideal is put through the ordeal, the musicians trying to reciprocally counterbalance despite a continuous push from those extraneous forces – the same ones that wrap superficial listeners with the “refusal of the atypical” cloth – that often define the exact junction point between experiment, constriction, emancipation and acceptance of the uneven, the latter being a major problem nowadays.