One of the abiding tropes of documenting improvised music is the role of the recording as silent partner. Its role is to remain largely unnoticed, to recreate the live performance as faithfully as possible. Accordingly, many listeners tend to have some kind of a mental picture of the performance proceedings. One has a sense of the room, the instrumentation, the relative positions of the players.

One of the things that makes Three Rushes a special — and especially effective — recording is that this sense of a spatial locale is often missing. Or, when it is not missing, it is distorted. Acoustic sounds hover briefly in the foreground before they seem to twitch, then stretch at the edges, then morph into something less recognizable. It is something of a filmic effect. Haunting and surrealistic. Perhaps this is reflected in the tracks on the record being called "Scenes."

Electronic music's recording aesthetic tends to be less about documenting performance events. Perhaps it is fitting, then, that it is Carlos Santos' work with computers and electronics on this album that seems to be behind its pleasantly alien demeanor. "Electroacoustic" has become a familiar term lately, and has become something of a catchall phrase. However, this blended term seems more appropriate to a recording like this one, where the sonic elements are so deeply and effectively integrated. This synthesis of elements is so ingrained in this music that sometimes has more in common with composed music or soundtracks than other musics that fall under the category "improvised." A quiet, restrained approach to improvisation, associated with players like Rhodri Davies, John Butcher, and Bhob Rainey, is not new. But there is a seamless quality on tracks like "Scene1: Cookie's birth" that seems to transcend the genre. There is a less a feeling that the musicians are trying not to break the "keep it quiet" rule, and instead that they are all contributing just the right ingredients to the mix.

We get the most distinct flavor of the three players on "Scene2: Cookie's Role." Ernesto Rodrigues plays harp and objects, producing pleasantly junky rattles, buzzes, and cluster chords. Katsura Yamauchi, on alto, maintains the "small sounds" approach to saxophone throughout the album, his breathy wheezes only occasionally punctuated with slightly louder, sustained tones. Even on this track, though, Santos' electronic sounds set the scene, sometimes seeming to swirl around the acoustic players like a swarm of cicadas; other times fading-in ominous computer moans that subtly darken the music like clouds moving in.

This is quiet, subtle, and moody music; you'll need to look elsewhere for a fix of raucous, noisy improvisation.