Lucio Capece (soprano saxophone, bass clarinet, preparations, sruti box) and Lee Patterson (CD players, pick-ups, e-bowed springrods, springplate, hazelnuts) recorded these eight pieces in what Norman Records describes as "absolutely beautiful music" where "two masters of tiny sounds meet up." Capece approaches his reeds "more as tubes for breath than as traditional 'instruments,'" while Patterson uses all sorts of sound processes—including amplifying burning hazelnuts.

Nick Cain in The Wire notes the pairing makes ostensible sense given their impressive track records—Patterson's Seven Vignettes and Buoy, Capece's collaborations with Radu Malfatti and Mika Vainio. Much of Empty Matter focuses on "subtle adjustments to layered textures (either complementary or subtly contrasting), with a shared propensity for drone dynamics." The music begins with "sure-footed and polite agreement," Capece's clarinet and soprano "nimbly picking their way through Patterson's glistening electronics and crackly field recordings."

Gradually, tension creeps in, culminating in "Insuflar," the standout track, whose "dramatic drone exchanges mutate into abrasive rattles." Cain finds it "substantial enough to satisfy followers of both musicians and the label."

A French reviewer observes that Capece provides "the essential basis of the soundworld with his repetitive, granular breaths or with the humming drone he creates with his Indian shruti-box." The sources of sounds become uncertain—the booklet mentions Patterson uses hazelnuts, but "how do you identify these sounds? These uncertainties reinforce the aura of mystery, of an electronic matter that is full of fissures."

One Czech reviewer finds it the most impressive of the batch, noting that "the imaginary absence of substance is congenially fulfilled here. The feeling of emptiness is relatively absurdly saturated with absolute sonic substance." The work is "to some extent distinctly decadent" yet possesses "immense vitality," offering not catharsis as purification but "catharsis in the sense of new dimensions."

This is music at the edge of perception, where breath becomes texture, objects become drones, and "you have the feeling at the end of this recording that your playback system is collapsing and you must mobilize your senses to understand that this is not the case."