In “More is more”, the separation between the player’s physiology and the imaginary entities evoked by his effort is minimal, with a definite tendency to disappear. Peter Evans plays piccolo (and “regular”) trumpet but he sounds like a tabla player, a fly captured in a bottle, a helicopter, a nervous wreck. He’s gifted with a phenomenal fantasy, being able to carve small nicks of melody in the ancient trunk of undeserved freedom – once an apparent dreamland, now too often an oppressive set of plotless formulas – all the while saturating the surrounding air with trembling gurgles and bellowing invocations. Evans’ complex vibrations are felt in the nape of the neck, gripping statements of multivision authority that thoroughly use the instrument/body connection to steal our attention and nail it right in the middle of our own head, the only place where these signals could ever dream to nidify. This man doesn’t play a note half-heartedly but puts his whole spirit into tubes that propel his special brand of virtuosity towards an extreme consciousness, his and our bodies the only means through which these sequences of messages can be transmitted and translated. “More is more” sounds like it is dedicated to every shattered being who’s somehow capable of receiving it; it’s an album so intense that it almost scares me, but is also one of the very best instrumental solo recordings that I’ve heard in 2006.