(Potlatch)

Piano (prepared and/or played with extended techniques) and percussion install a series of lucid dialogues never transcending to hullabaloo, instead inhabiting many open spaces carved in silence. Blondy and Ninh accept no manacles whatsoever, going from (Cecil) Tayloresque articulations and arco/long string sonorities mingling with omni-directional shards of sinless percussive eruptions – quite often after repeated preliminary caressing. At the end, we listeners sat out the 45-plus minutes with tangible pleasure: after the music is over, the house hasn’t been left in shambles and on the walls there are a few new abstract paintings looking to be appreciated any time more than the previous one.

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