Rhodri Davies, Matt Davis, Samantha Rebello, Bechir Saade
Hum

 ‘Hum relaunches the quest for new expressive methods in that area of EAI which mainly deals with constituents such as air, saliva, friction.  The instrumentation makes for some pretty damn fine moments of fascinating  interaction, with Matt Davis’ electronics often constituting an element of menacing doubt amidst a detailed suspension characterized by various types of overtones that peep first, clash later, then look for a meeting point  somewhere in the middle. “Two” wears the timbral components down to frazzles, giving the music a far-reaching anxiousness miles away fromself-indulgence.  On the contrary the music takes advantage of the whole dynamic range to uproot any hope from those who expect vibrations of peace and love to sweeten an improvisation.  

It’s virtually impossible to quantify individual contributions to the body of the performance, despite the extreme clarity of the recording. While breath is obviously a common denominator -  although fragmented to minuscule crumbles, oppressive exhalations and guttural snaps - it is when Davies’ harp resonates vigorously that the music assumes a totally different weight, transforming the seductive, if somehow acrid grace of Rebello and Saade’s microscopic elaboration into a muscular buzzing torso that David Jackman would almost envy.  Tracks like “One” and “Four” bring us back  to the golden era of reductionism,  but the tendencies to silence are soon removed in favour of gentle droning and mechanical tampering amidst piercing shrieks and malevolent low-tone resurgences.  A distinct urban cloud underlines the seagull-like harmonics at the beginning of “Five”, scraped strings and scattered noises dematerialising pigmentations and suggestions down to a combustible absence of meaning.”
Massimo Ricci,  Touching Extremes

“It’s odd to think that the micro-gestural sound world of musicians such as these now have a deep tradition on which to draw.   Improvisers have been mining the lower boundaries of dynamics, and densities for long enough that the vocabulary and strategies are no longer the radical affront they once appeared to be.  Today's listeners are attuned to the flickers, breaths, scrapes, and hisses to the point that they can get past the surface textures of extended technique and focus on the music that is being created.   Rhodri Davies and Matt Davis are both well-established improvisers in settings like this.  For Hum  they are joined by flutist Samantha Rebello and bass clarinetist Bechir Saade for a series of intimately detailed collective sound explorations.  While Rebello is a new name, Saade is a member of the Lebanese improv scene along with Sharif Sehnaoui, Christine Sehnaoui, and Mazen Kerbaj.   The instrumentation is harp, trumpet and electronics, flute, and bass clarinet but of course that does little to describe the music.   Instead, what jumps out is a strategy of collective circumspection as the four assiduously construct spontaneous tracery.  There is the clear weighting of sound and space; durations of tone placed against scrubbed and scraped textures; velocity of activity balanced with inky stasis.   While electronics are present, their use is understated, placing a much stronger focus on the acoustic interactions.  Fluttering breaths, sputtered reed pops, bowed and scraped strings, strident flute overtones, and brassy exhales, buzzes, and valve clicks create a taught balance of density and transparency.  Their palate and attack eschews line for more of a sense of collective sonic choreography and it is here that they really develop their group sound.  For all the subtleties, this is not about muted silence.   Instead the four have woven together improvisations full of variegated lucidity informed by careful listening and radiant interaction.”
Michael Rosenstein, Signal to Noise

“In hum the instruments are transformed by the fingers and lips of the players into the gurgling, whistling and ululating sounds imagined by the Italian Futurists, producing flickering noises of smoke and of burning.  These are small sounds, as though written on the wind, or traced in dust, or like particles of spittle rubbed into the ears of the blind so that they can hear again, or the lame so that they can see.  Musique concrete  created directly from the players’ mouths, often grey on grey.  The bass clarinet gurgles with phlegm from the very bottom of the lung, the flute trembles fearfully like a fluttering leaf.  The trumpet rattles like the death rattle itself, or shrills like a badly oiled machine.  Davies’ harp is simply one object amongst others, an objet trouve, a frame of wires on which the wind pulls and the frost creaks.  Davis sets in play some electronics, but the sounds are indistinguishable from the rest.  A classic of the Bruit Secret aesthetic, of the Arte Poverissima, which sits as if naturally on the benches of this world amidst the wind and rain.”                                                                                        
Rigobert Dittmann – Bad Alchemy