What a great idea to merge the Swedish-Irish group Chip Shop with the Barcelona-based ensemble Atolón. Chip Shop offers saxophone, clarinet, percussion, electronics, and computer, while Atolón provides trumpet, accordion, and turntables. The skill of these seasoned improvisers, combined with their wide range of instruments, has yielded Public Private, a meditation on impermanence that's pure sonic poetry.

In February 2012, the two groups spent three days together rehearsing and recording, which concluded with a concert in Barcelona. The live performance yielded the 43-minute "Public," the first track on the recording, and the days in the studio generated the 21-minute "Private." Interestingly, during the concert the two groups stayed on different sides of the stage instead of mixing into a big conglomeration. And "Private" was actually created after the fact: once their three days together ended, Ferran Fages from Atolón mixed together tracks that each group had recorded separately. As Fages states, "The idea was to think of the collaboration as a duo rather than merging everyone into one large ensemble. It wasn't easy to play without being affected by the other group's music, but that was the challenge."

"Public" is a generous piece of music, executed with care and imagination. Out of a black hole of silence, sounds emerge — sometimes understated and low-key, sometimes piercing and keening, sometimes crashing and menacing. These groups are working in a territory infused with the ghostly, a land of what's almost about to happen, what's just on the verge of. The accordion makes itself heard, but it's a specter of itself, an echo with faint edges of noise. A voice emerges, but the words aren't clear and they never return. Hollow-toned drones push aside the air, emerging from beneath only to vanish into mist. A glorious variety of sound materializes among these sonic ruins, including crisp electric sizzles, whirring purrs, corrugated squeals, and all manner of subterranean rumbles. The sounds combine to create a shape-shifting beast that's full of mystery, an impermanent universe full of fleeting beauty.

"Private" continues the dance with a similar sizzling vibe, but this work feels a bit more raw and prickly. Merging drones create a gorgeous hum, but they're interspersed with an edgy pitch that bites at their feet. Percussive shivers sound like brushes played on a red-hot surface, their edges curling with heat. The accordion returns, but here it has a jittery, menacing feel. Fascinating sounds flower throughout: there's something like an angry radiator, plus a throaty beast that resembles a tuba about to burst, not to mention strange, strangled noises similar to a computer gasping for breath. Altogether the piece is an alarmingly elegant dance, crackling on the edge of itself as it simultaneously disappears.

It's a brave thing for two groups with such distinctive sounds to come together to create something new. Chip Shop and Atolón show how it can be done, remaining true to themselves, while leaving enough space for fresh perspectives. This electroacoustic phantasmagoria is a sheer delight from beginning to end, and the fact that it's a collaboration makes it even more intriguing.