"12 for Evan Parker" opens with fluttering, breathy lines damaged by digital shock, delay, and distortion, becoming increasingly agitated until joined by Ron Stabinsky's carefully unhinged piano and the tight percussion of Jim Black. The compact improvisation rolls over itself with Evans' line repeating indefinitely and cutting thru the center, maintaining the only cohesive element of the song.

"Make It So" is a longer piece that begins with alien landscapes not far removed from mid 60's Sun Ra. Minimal, stark, foreboding...electronics sizzle as Evans squeaks in the highest register possible while Black's dead tubs briefly rumble beneath. Cymbal feedback emerges as a short melody unfolds. The piece continues its solemn trajectory with occasional thunderous percussion and piano until a few minutes in when a careening, free rhythm pushes past the previous statements.

"Tresillo" could be the soundtrack for a race to the top of a mountain that is crumbling beneath the players' feet as they ascend the slope. Aided by electronic slurs and a motif that continually evades capture, it's a mess of staccato lines crashing together and breaking apart until eventually the bass is left scurrying about as insectoid, fizzing mouthpiece flurries flank the stereo field. Evans then blurts and bleeps out a non-solo that manages to generate serious momentum. Black's percussion is reduced to a series of whirring hiccups but eventually a groove of sorts appears amidst the maelstrom. This is a seriously fun way to end a record that started life as a more tentative beast. Highly recommended.