A brief live recording from Paris in 2021 finds Bernard Denzler's tenor saxophone tangling with Jason Kahn's electronic brujeria, to much enchanting effect. At first you won't know what's going on, there's a kind of straw texture enlivened by breath and the occasional equilibrium altering whine and pop. These gents take their time and all the better for it. Who's doing what, though? There's crackle and timbre shift amid sudden metal toss and squelchy lip smack. When the clear saxophone tones arrive it's almost a surprise. From the little I know about Kahn's current working methods, mixed with the evidence presented here, I'd say he's taking in bits of Denzler's emissions and running them through a tangle of circuitry. The whole then presents us with a mirrored funhouse of defraction and endless revision. But don't think about the how, just listen to the what.

The sax playing is a very near perfect mix of strange textures and straight notes, as if Denzler is morphing out of the bramble of electronics to float above them, or to comment wryly on their passage. At times, Kanh's dark wizardry evokes old school synth interjections, a ghost from the past. One could view it from the perspective of an aural history of improvised music, where everything that's ever been played is constantly spinning around itself as it runs its course. The bits of stoppage allow us to briefly compose ourselves and focus on the next enunciation. And 30 odd minutes seems like the perfect length of time for this engagement.