Ben and Hans of Graveyards/Melee/Traum et al have as fine a set of ears as anyone who has ever claimed improvised jazz as their area of expertise and the various non in-house projects that they choose to champion and release via Brokenresearch betray the kind of sophisticated feel for improvised sound as reified thought that many a 'fan' of jazz and associated modern, high energy forms could learn a thing or two from regarding the many subtle - and not so subtle - ways to extract a fucking tooth. This latest deluxe limited edition LP on their own label (run of only 200 copies in pro-printed sleeves) is another beautiful object lesson in just how well-listened and non-cliched their appreciation continues to be. Eichmann is a German pianist, composer, conceptualist, interpreter of modernists like Nono and Feldman and student of Alex Von Schlippenbach. Over the years he has produced a bunch of large scale ballets and performance pieces, most notably the Prayer To The Unknown Gods Of The People Without Rights, scored for ensemble and improvising soloist and first performed by Peter Brotzmann and the Wuppertal Chamber Orchestra. During the past five years or so he has reconnected with the stream of modern improvisatory modes, often in the company of American percussionist Jeff Arnal. This new recording, Live At The Phenomorphonic Festival sees the duo knee-deep in pedalling power stomps, obsessing over a mere clutch of notes that they work to emphasise in splintered, obsessive rhythms. The effect is closer to the work of Charlemagne Palestine than Cecil Taylor, although there's little of Palestine's continual expansion of ideas or lightness of touch; instead each note feels like its being hammered to the floor and the persistence with which they're sounded again and again is almost autistic. Arnal falls in behind Eichmann with pounding single shots and scattered tonal sunbursts that briefly illuminate the hulking dungeons of tone that Eichmann thuds from the instrument. Indeed, there's very little of the sound of the piano's keys, with Eichmann spending most of his time wading through the guts of the piano with heavy boots and sandpaper. This is the most impressive and conceptually far-reaching sounding of post-Cecil piano I've heard in the past whenever; a major statement from a profoundly singular stylist. So sign me up.