There are several things that seem impossible about the Fucht trio. Their mesh of instruments � Johannes Bauer's trombone, Thomas Lehn's analogue synthesizer, Rose's violin and electronics � is an unlikely amalgamation, fat in the midrange and, with neither frets nor valves, ripe with slippery indeterminacy. The players, too, are an unlikely combination: Rose is a tireless conceptualist, making music out of political borders and rewriting economics and history like a viol-centric Marco Polo. While Bauer played previously with Rose in the Slawterhouse quartet, he is better known in adventurous jazz realms, having played with Peter Br�tzmann, Barry Guy, Ken Vandermark and Alan Silva. Lehn can usually be found in the hotter end of less idiomatic free improv with John Butcher, Cor Fuehler and the group Konk Pack. The name they've chosen for themselves, German for "gone" or "spoiled" suggests something about their group work, although it might just as much be misleading.

But what is most unlikely about their disc, recorded over two sessions in 2006, is how impossibly close all the sounds are. The album drills maddeningly into the brain from the first moments. There is no background here, no comping or accompaniment, no division of duties. They could almost have been a proper trio: Lehn's ever mutating pops and whistles are generally percussive; Bauer could have fallen easily into a bass register; Rose might have chosen to play the melody lead like a voice or saxophone. But that, presumably, would have been going too easy on the unsuspecting listener.

Instead they frenetically circle and burrow, creating a new sonic situation every few seconds, working, it seems, inches from the listener's ears. They are working together, constantly picking up on suggestions from each other but never falling into formation. They create musical fragments only to ignore or destroy them. Futch is restless, relentless, occasionally hilarious and always commanding of attention. The bold will use headphones.