Ben Monder (guitar); Bill McHenry (sax)

Two New York jazz titans, guitarist Ben Monder and saxophonist Bill McHenry, meet here for ten free improvisations. Although these men are at the forefront of the modern mainstream jazz scene in New York City, they leave the familiar world of post-bop jazz behind for the most part on this album as the improvisations found here were experimental, and they were presented as mood pieces rather than discrete songs. "Ice Fields" had a creepy and haunting sound with raw guitar feeding back, and caustic and grating saxophone, in a manner which evokes loneliness or isolation. "Winter" brings insistent guitar playing with saxophone blowing over it like winds shifting over a lonesome arctic plain. "Food Chain" has Monder using overdubbed guitar and loops making for a shape shifting base that is an ever-changing pattern for Mchenry's saxophone to probe. There is a cinematic feel here, like something from a science fiction movie taking place on an unusual alien landscape. The music on this album is meditative and thoughtful. The enigmatic nature of the music is unusual and unique and speaks well of the musicians as they investigate new sonic territory.

Bloom is completely dedicated to mood and emotional expression, developing at an exceedingly unhurried pace. Not so much a solid step as a bodiless spirit-float. Monder is a core member of McHenry's quartet, but now the pair find themselves cast adrift from a rhythm section. The title cut immediately establishes a sense of foreboding, the somber uncurling of a deathly petal. Monder can't escape the reverberational legacy of Bill Frisell, his preferred act being to emit suspended tones while McHenry grows bittersweet, savoring his own rich tone. The album has an authentic live-in-the-room acoustic, moving into a central cluster of pieces that swim towards becalmed waters, reducing to minimal gestures as a pregnant aura is gently formed.