This new installment of The Art of Memory is a prequel of sorts, released 14 years after the original Incus record, but recorded a decade earlier. It's interesting to hear the changes over a decade's time. While the latter recording showed Frith and Zorn as masters of their instruments (guitar and saxophone, respectively), in the endless experimentation of the '80s the pair are heard on the earlier recording on a variety of objects, from Frith's homemade instruments and Casio keyboard to Zorn's duck calls and disconnected mouthpiece.

It would be easy to assume, then, that the earlier session was noisier, the second more refined, but that turns out not to be the case. The earlier one - recorded live at Roulette and P.A.S.S. - feels surprisingly more open and relaxed, as if the variety of implements were given room to breathe. The five tracks - clocking in at close to an hour - get chaotic to be sure, but what is primarily heard is the remarkable responsiveness of two master improvisers during the height of the "all sounds are good sounds" era of Downtown innovation. The changes in stream are quick and the intuitiveness is strong. Where the Incus disc seemed to be about pushing their instruments to the extreme, here they are pushing each other, at all times complementing, contradicting and subverting each others moves.

Listening to this session makes the use of the title clearer, or at least makes suppositions easier. The name comes from an ancient Greek memory technique where individual parts are used to store a mental image of the whole, as in the architectural components of a building. Listening to Frith and Zorn on each other's tails makes it seem as if they have a host of little bits of information, signals (agreed upon or tacitly understood) for proceeding. And they do so apace. It's a spirited listen.