ere's the premise: get two well-known electronic artists, put them in a studio, record them improvising music for an hour, and then release the work unedited. That's basically what you get on nr.1 – nr.10, a live and improvised collaboration between Ilpo Väisänen of Pan Sonic and Dirk Dresselhaus, aka SchneiderTM. Here, Ilpo is playing his own homemade synthesizer, which he calls a "typewriter," while Dirk is playing a really "fucked-up" guitar.

Of course, improvised music is nothing new. Most jazz is founded on this sort of improvisation. However, jazz improv is usually based around a central motif or riff or idea. The musicians will begin playing a particular song, and then, as the song reaches a certain point, someone will let the spirit of the moment take over and take a riff in a new direction. But no matter how "out there" a particular Charlie Parker solo might go, there is a foundation there, some referent that the artist uses to base his or her improvised exuberances on. On nr.1 – nr.10, the improvisation is entirely made up, even the referent. The only real starting points are the instruments used and the fact that the artists in question are very familiar with their respective instruments and with each other. Beyond that, it's just music. Consequently, the quality of the music created in a Berlin studio on this day in July of 2000 is entirely dependant upon how on Ilpo and Dirk happened to be. If they were in a particularly creative frame of mind, then the result would be great; if they weren't, then it could easily be shit.

Well, it's not shit, but neither is it great. Actually, how much you'll enjoy this music will probably depend upon your attitude towards Pan Sonic's music, for it is the more caustic and blistering side to Pan Sonic's music that dominates here, rather than their more sedentary, rhythm based stuff or, certainly, the electronic pop that Dresselhaus is best known for. Dresselhaus' contribution here is guitar feedback noise, which punctuates almost the entire release, fuzzing and burning into the bottom reaches of your ears, while Väisänen's typewriter pops and buzzes and hums in and around and over and under, in just about every conceivable combination you can come up with.

Melodies and beats are sparse here, as the two artists just let their imaginations and their musical talent go wild, creating whatever sounds they could come up with, feeding off one another with wild abandon. But if you are willing to let the artists play you, so to speak—that is, let their improvised weirdness take over your life for an hour—then you'll be in for an interesting, if freaky, ride. This is certainly a dark record, what with the omnipresent guitar noise blurring your senses throughout, and the dominant mood I experience as I listen leans decidedly towards paranoia—but an enthusiastic paranoia, one that eagerly pushes delusions of industrial terror into your mind like a good Boyd Rice or Throbbing Gristle work. It's not the loudest record in the world, but it's a creepy record, to be sure, and it's an essential record for all Pan Sonic fans.