"On a small stage we meet two legends not only of the local music scene - Raoul van der Weide (double bass, cracklebox , percussion instruments) and Henk Zwerver (guitar). Cheeky veterans will infect us with their energy and the ability to build improvisational tension for the entire 30 minutes with seconds. They will play six episodes for us, and then they won't let us out of the club until the morning! It's September 2020, and the pandemic has yet to reach its second wave. Everyone seems to be happy.

As a welcome, the Dutch offer us two quick, two-minute shots! The first portion of emotions - strong, male hands are tugging at the strings, trying to destroy them, making them make strange sounds that immediately arouse our enthusiasm. The box of the double bass can confidently turn out to be a snare drum, other, mysterious sounds can come from a toy called a cracklebox . Contrabass dynamics, string slides, guitar nuances that resemble Derek Bailey, but do not completely imitate him. The second shot seems to be more songful, as if fixed in the history of jazz for a short while. Mass versus filigree, dissonance, which after a while becomes just one portion of expression.

The third story is built more meticulously, the musicians already give themselves more time to build a narrative that will try to force us into uncomfortable seats for the audience. Bass rumbles and sings, plays arco , plays pizzicato , someone knocks on something and this strange toy - oh, a real one man orchestra ! The guitar stands aside, a poor relative asks for the right to make a sound, it smells like post-jazz and even promiscuous post-classics. A galaxy of sounds swinging on the waves of the death ocean! The musicians' temperament explodes, like the temperature in the middle of a hot summer. A bow, percussion accents and meticulous reprise on reverberation. The fourth movement is initially created on the inhale, almost delicate, feminine, a bit frivolous. The guitar smells goodsoft rock, bass drags lazily down the dirty street. The former builds a narrative with a wide range of genre connotations, the latter sews dynamics with the simplest methods.

The next story doesn't care about the dramatic nuances, throws us into the cauldron of hellish emotions from the very beginning. A moving bow and sharp riffs! Half-singing phrases created by exceptional agile fingers. Stains percussion , bluzgi cracklebox and another bow, also on the neck of the guitar. It gets dense, like in a grinding plant that has not been ventilated for centuries. Musicians build a flow by repeating phrases like a bad mantra at dusk. The bass plays arco and pizzicato again with one pull of the trigger! A beautiful moment! The expression of free jazz is knocking on the door, but it has an invalid ticket. Neoclassical squiggles and a few hits to the double bass's resonance body do their job.

Unfortunately, we are already getting to the end of this expressive improvisation. The double bass is swirling within itself like a sleepy bear, the guitar strings are dancing and getting tangled with each other. A galaxy of short-cuts in anticipation of any dramatic harassment. Somewhere on the side of the bar, Bailey sat down. It applauds with appreciation! There is probably everything in this story, including the aftertaste of morning jazz with an empty glass. There are songs, also on the double bass, and a few sentences interrupted in half a word. However, emotions stay with us until the very end - the final bounces, post-jazz poured over the collar and thick strips of the bow! We stay until morning!"-Spontaneous Music Tribune (Translated by Google)