Clive Bell, Bechir Saade

Duo improvisations for shakuhachi and ney recorded in Ealing, west London, July and October 2007. Clive Bell (shakuhachi) and Bechir Saade (ney) - two deeply committed improvisers working at the intersection of traditional practice and contemporary exploration - unite for their first recording as a duo. An entirely acoustic affair. Both instruments are made of plants from the same grass family - the shakuhachi from bamboo, the ney from reeds - and share fundamental similarities in timbre, breath technique and musical language.

Bell - ethnic music multi-instrumentalist who studied with shakuhachi master Kohachiro Miyata - brings experience interpreting traditional solo and ensemble music, folk songs and improvisation. He produces sounds that range from quiet, wispy curlicues to extended multiphonics, moving freely in and out of his instrument's cultural background. Saade - Lebanese improviser who also plays bass clarinet and flute - explores the links between Middle Eastern improvisation techniques and contemporary music. The player's breath is integral to the sound of both instruments, and phrase lengths are often dictated by lung capacity.

As Kiku Day observes: "Both musicians have a wide palate of sounds and techniques and their exploration of multiphonics and timbre is remarkable, particularly when they play with difference tones." On the opening kindling, Bell introduces quiet, wispy curlicues of sound, and when Saade responds with rhythmic tappings and pressurised long tones, he slips into the shakuhachi's lower register. In straw, the ney wails nostalgic phrases, which Bell layers beautifully, creating an ambiance of distant lands.

The title track an account of my hut finds both players synchronizing their breathing and seeming to play the other's instrument, creating a well-structured piece where the end possesses elements of the beginning. Brian Marley wrote in The Wire: "The range of articulations is just as wide throughout - when textures roughen, the breathy overtones of the flutes fly like molten sparks or chips of ice."

Simon Reynell's recording is close and intense, giving the feeling that the two musicians are playing only a few arm-lengths away. Alfio Castorina captures the essence: "This is a disc apart which arouses mysterious fascination and demands to be listened to in a state of contemplation. Its pure tones carve in the air 'melodies' from distant worlds without sounding folksy thanks to skilful playing which draws on the radical experience of recent improvisation. Long phrases brush against each other, slide one upon the other, unite and then separate, panting, puffing, tangling and then resettling."

These two artists have such lyrical respect for both the space and interplay between them that the performance seems destined to become a milestone recording. Music which seeks out and excites a pure and extremely fragile beauty, continuing to wander inside your head long after listening. One of the most profoundly human expressions of recent improvisation.