If your Latin is a bit rusty these days (and whose isn't?), the phrase "nulli secundus" means "second to none." The term seems innocent on the surface, but what if "second" refers to time instead of rank? It's just these sorts of inversions that are welcome in the musical world created by this fine improvisational trio, composed of guitarist Andreas Willers, drummer Christian Marien, and double bassist Meinrad Kneer.
Recorded in February 2012 at Ausland, Berlin, the nine songs document a riveting free improvisation session. Most songs clock in under five minutes, and it's astonishing what the group can do in that amount of time; they change course swiftly and decisively, taking the listener on an exciting adventure as they explore the unfolding. "Unkunft," for instance, starts out with a shifting, choppy chaos, which evolves into a clicking of sticks and chiming, slightly ominous notes. The chimes gather together into a skewed melody, and finally the whole tune fractures and implodes. "Triolog" is full of strings and space, with fabulous twangs and tiny bits of lyricism by Willers. There's also a range of unexpected, unknown sounds, including clicks and clacks and what sounds like a whip. "Shoct" is a short, guitar-heavy piece, with Willers getting a range of interesting torques from his instrument; it's like Jimi Hendrix meeting a William S. Burroughs cut-up poem. "Ubersturz" is full of simmering, perilous strings, with everything played at the edge of urgency. The song gains in potency, and by the end becomes almost frantic in its necessity. There's something deeply disturbing about this tune, but only in the most delicious way.
The two longer pieces are a joy to behold. "Geschiebemerget" starts out with mysterious scrapes and shivers, plus more of Willers' glorious twangs and bending notes; some of his sounds are downright pretty, making him a sort of quantum Chris Isaak. The song gains momentum as it grows, slowly building into a quizzical maze of noise. The group plays with the edge of unbearable sound, high notes that quiver the eardrums and threaten one's sanity — but again, in a good way. Then they shift into alien-speak, throwing out sparkling bits of notes that resemble an ethereal Morse Code. By the end the song gets very tiny and spare, drifting into a spacious world, and finally floating untethered into outer space. It's simply a gorgeous piece of music. "Fellatmung" starts out with a noise like burning, the slow sizzling of something threatening to burst. The song takes its time, carefully putting out one note at a time, exploring individual motifs and then pulling them back. But suddenly there's a shift in spirit and mood, with the guitar becoming light and lyrical. Whatever was gaining energy has now come out into the light; the song feels like a birth in a way, with a terrible pressure and intensity bursting into a beautiful sonic flowering.
Altogether Nulli Secundus is utterly enjoyable, a thought-provoking musical offering by three seasoned improvisers. The group is wild and free and open to anything, yet it's their inherent musicality that allows them to choose and combine in a way that's pleasing, even when it's shocking.
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