Absolutely no searching for purity here, as Swiftmachine – a computer, sax and guitar trio – are fully functional in their quite atypical noise reflections. Indeed Aubry, Chessex and Papenheim are not, at least in this circumstance, the most radical deformers of timbral regularity, for this is one of those instances in which the voices of the single instruments result as pretty recognizable throughout. The concoction works well without additional efforts, the sonic mass twisting and turning with a good degree of colourful peculiarities, mixing nicely like the contents of a mad scientist’s laboratory alembics. These men are not trying to rewrite the book of improvisational shaping, yet they found their way through harmonics, string scraping, wet conduits and laptop transmutations, the result a series of strange bubbles which dissolve in the air wryly. Germs of corruption deciding to remain just a chuckle in the chaos of life.