Fans of free improvisation may have noted a couple of common types of playing, no matter the instrument. One type � those you might call the "springboard" players � seem to crave input from other players, sometimes to the point of being hesitant to play until hearing from the others. Another type � call them the "wind-ups" � seem happy to rumble along in their own sonic universe to some extent, laying down textures that often heavily influence the overall shape of the music (especially when they play with springboards). If you imagine a third type of player, though, who manages to reflect the best elements of these other two types, you'll have some notion of much of the music to be heard on the excellent album Beam Stone.

With Nilsson, Sandell, and Strid, each player spends most of Beam Stone in this third mode. They make the assertive, idiosyncratic gestures of the wind-ups, while avoiding the inclinations of that type to carry on come what may. They maintain the strategic, composer's eye view of the springboards, but avoid the hesitancy and lack of boldness to which they can be prone.

The results of this approach are often staggering. The degree of drama and perfectly selected and timed gestures on this recording are often at the level of a good composition; but somehow the sense of spontaneity so valuable to improvisation is preserved. "Luster" is the most salient example of this demeanor, although "Refraction" and "Breccia" also provide fine examples. The liner notes state that the trio's "aim with Beam Stone is to explore sonic territories with the guidance of different pre-defined concepts." Whether this suggests the use of some sort of prepared material, strategies, frameworks, etc. is unclear. But it would not be surprising if so, because these pieces often unfold with a sense of purpose and logic that is unusual for pure improvisation.

The style of the music itself is positioned along the discordant post-Cage, post-Stockhausen lineages in electroacoustic music. Strid's percussion kit and Sandell's intermittent piano are the only ties here to traditional instrument sounds. Both Sandell and Nilsson use electronic devices to create many of the chirps, rumbles, and buzzes heard on the CD, including the sampling and retooling of the sounds of the instruments themselves. "Grey Zone" provides a great example of the latter approach. Nilsson processes Strid's skittering percussion lines, apparently, expanding their palette and increasing their velocity, the effect sounding something like a superhuman John Stevens playing a kit the size of a small house. The computer and electronic emissions throughout are integrated seamlessly into the overall sound, lacking the compressed, overly-localized quality that speaker-dependent playing can have.

The relatively cerebral, careful mien of this recording may not enthrall those who prefer more raucous, take-no-prisoners approaches to improvisation. However, I can see it being considered a classic among those who gravitate toward thoughtful, skillful exploration of structure and sound.