A trio of viola, electric guitar and percussion recorded live at Instants Chavires in 2002. From spiky, slippery sparse beginnings they coalesce into dense particle clouds that form and dissolve seemingly of their own accord. This is well-played music by men who are listening.

There's plenty of tension and release, and judicious laying out as one instrument of another comes to the fore alone. Passages of ghostly harmonics arrive to float for brief seconds and then subside into silence or get ground into a pulpy mass among bruised plastic and string scrape. Oliveira's drumming is particularly notable, as he seems to find just the right places to jump up and smack one thing or rub another for punctuation or support. There seem to be odd cartoon voices bubbling up here and there, and the sound of collapse features heavily. It is akin to witnessing matter forming and deforming, only to re-form again and again.

At this stage in the game, some 40 years on from a nebulous beginning, it's probably futile to expect anything new or different from any recording of improvised music. It is just another way in which humans interact with one another, interesting for both participant and audient. The title given to the one long piece here, "La Revolution des Oreilles", could refer to the on-going process we're all sharing: learning to listen.