Fred Frith/J.P. Drouet/Louis Sclavis

A problem that arises with documents of live improvised performances, is the loss of visual evidence from the event. Yes, it is music, and yes, it does encourage the mind to roam as freely as the musicians' terrain will allow. But when dealing with such non-representative sounds possibly emanating from any one of the instruments, a modicum of brow furrowing and cowlick scratching is allowed. That aside, the playfulness of this show bounds from the speakers. While Frith is his typically legendary guitarist self, and woodwind player Sclavis matches him for dexterity and tasteful choices of entrance and departure, it is Drouet who really makes this fun. In the most propulsive passages, his array of chimes, duck calls, vocal collages, etc., gives the music a Burton-esque (Tim, not Richard) quality of adult cartoon madness. In the very, very quiet moments, Drouet's gentle touch on hand drums and other percussion laces together with the soft thrum of guitar strings and gentle hazes of breath through the clarinet. The improv, which clocks in under an hour, very seldom lags, and only occasionally does things seem unworkable, though for very short periods of time. Wish we were here.