For a seasoned analyst, a mere glance at the names involved in a given project usually allows for the immediate determination of the artistic merit, or lack thereof. This is precisely what occurred to this writer with Band Width; it goes without saying that the trust warranted the expected reward.

It is not necessary to provide a detailed account of the identities and achievements of Jon Rose and Mark Dresser, for their curricula offer compelling evidence of qualifications and extensive collaborative history. It is sufficient to note that, through a multitude of mutations of the violin and a comprehensive interrogation of the double bass, these researchers have deepened to an uncommon degree the studying of string-induced molecular oscillation in relation to the surrounding environment.

In recent years, the importance of bandwidth has increased considerably. This is exemplified by the outbreak of Covid, which forced musicians accustomed to performing together to play remotely and deprived of physical contact, thereby preventing them from perceiving the subtler nuances in the respective instruments. Luckily, the circumstances that gave rise to this particular album are not virus-related. Rose and Dresser were in any case able to achieve a noteworthy intensity, effectively circumventing any potential constraints pertaining to intercontinental sonic communication.

By means of the open-source software SonoBus, the couple documented what is described in the liner notes as "hardcore improvisation from the extremes of time and space". The concept that gives the record its title is also applicable here, in that one can reasonably assume that a considerable bandwidth — also mental — is required to transmit the vast amount of data, often at extremely high speeds, that inform long-distance dialogues of such technical prowess. On the final track, the drumming of legendary Vladimir Tarasov was captured using the same technology to turn the duo into a trio.

In other words, the exceptional skill of these gentlemen cannot be limited by ordinary boundaries. However, this is contingent upon the listener's ability to keep pace with the breakneck succession of dynamic vignettes and dissonant shards that define the eight tracks. Additionally, in absence of conventional tones or harmonics, Rose and Dresser produce splendidly preposterous noises by extended bowing techniques. This caused yours truly to envisage rosin particles being propelled from the bow hairs across a range of deviant sonorities.

Ultimately Rose, sounding as a struck-by-lightning Stephane Grappelli trying to reproduce Anton Webern's entire collection of string quartets in three minutes, or Dresser making his 4- and 5-string basses grunt, roar, sing deep and shudder like earthquake, will be fully appreciated by those who approach experimental music without preconceptions, wholly receptive to the myriad possibilities inherent in any sound.