Barking sand indeed.

Two rather longish improvisations by the trio of Chris Cogburn on percussion, Bonnie Jones' electronics and Bhob Rainey on soprano saxophone recorded at two different venues in Austin and Marfa, Texas in 2010. An austere collection of rubbings and thumpings, buzzes, drones and grit, these pieces conjure up natural processes for me, fitting in well with the morning ambience of the house as the wind blows the bamboo and the neighbors porch-bell tolls. The first piece, "Govalle", feels episodic, with rising and falling sound clusters mostly from solo performers with short silences in between. These then slowly begin to overlap, gain weight and a bit more volume, and then subside. On headphones the detail is most interesting, with the room sound a quiet canvas for the crenellated splotches of sound. I can feel that the form here (revealed in the disc's title) is like watching sand tumble down a just-too-steep pile, first one or two grains, then more as the accumulated weight gains impetus. Like the phenomena of "booming (barking?) sand", the odd, little-known occurrence of certain types of sand dunes making sound when shifted by the wind.

"Marfa" feels a bit more weighty at the beginning, although no louder. A low-pitched stumbling. quiet. some metallic clicks. A feedback like tone with a shifting timbre, then dry rasping. Out of the nothing, some unison breathes. As with the first piece the sounds do gain momentum, each grain bouncing off others and pulling them along to touch others. Until the wind secedes. It's all quite beautiful.

Interestingly, at about the time I received this disc for review, I also happened upon a photograph of one of their concerts in a music magazine, which gave me a clear mental picture of the players. My usual habit of imagining what the performance might look like was enhanced and perhaps even colored by this bit of serendipity, and I pondered for awhile the meeting of sound and picture that occurs with music presented on records and CDs. The actual cover graphic of "Arena Ladridos" gives no indication at all of the music found within. Could it be just nice, slightly quirky drawings to catch the eye? Just one of the odd avenues my mind travels when I forget to listen.