hances are, if you’ve heard and enjoy Microstoria (the duo of Oval’s Markus Popp and Mouse on Mars’ Jan St. Werner) then you are also a pretty big fan of one of the pair’s other groups. Sadly, it’s probably a lot less likely than you’re a huge fan of both. Much like Quentin Tarantino’s contention that no one can ever enjoy Elvis Presley and the Beatles in equal measure, it seems that the abstract destructive impulses of Oval don’t mix well with the playful experimentation of MoM. Which is why it’s so hard to imagine Popp and St. Werner collaborating. Their music is very different and based in very distinct ideologies, so at first glance any hope of them forming a meaningful partnership seems doomed.


Nevertheless, Microstoria has been a particularly fruitful project. They’ve released three albums (plus a remix collection and last year’s live album Improvisers) since 1995, and each time they have managed to successfully balance Popp’s digital demolition with St. Werner’s more ambient and bouncy predilections. Invisible Architecture #3 is the group’s second live album, and if the concept of a laptop duo releasing concert recordings seems a bit ludicrous to you, the record itself should silence any objections.


This is the third in Audiosphere’s excellent Invisible Architecture series, which has chronicled live collaborations of electronic and avant-garde musicians. The first volume was a surprisingly intense piece by Philip Jeck, Otomo Yoshihide, and Martin Tetreault; the second featured a low-key set by Mika Vainio (Pansonic) and Christian Fennesz. As far as style goes, Microstoria’s set falls somewhere in between the two: more outgoing and accessible than the Vainio/Fennesz collaboration, but not nearly as abrasive and experimental as the first volume.


Throughout this album you can practically hear the two musicians interacting. As illogical a pair as Popp and St. Werner may appear, the music they create is remarkably instinctive. It’s a careful synthesis rather than a battle. Popp’s skipping electronics and shattered CD sounds blend naturally with the more bubbly soup of St. Werner’s distinctive fluid synth sounds. The music often sounds like an active, audible exchange of ideas, as if Popp has put forth a glittering shard of fractured plastic before St. Werner smoothed down its soft edges with a droning current. The constant back-and-forth is what makes this record so exciting. If you listen closely, you can imagine the two musicians intently paying attention to what the other is doing, frantically twirling knobs and punching keys to produce a reaction. Even though these are all versions of songs that the pair previously included on its studio albums _snd and Model 3, Step 2, it’s clear that they are actually improvising as they go along. The differences are often subtle, but the improvisatory spirit is fairly clear throughout.


Because of the differential nature of the two performers, the album’s music often swings back and forth, but never too wildly. Popp and St. Werner seem to have settled on a comfortable compromise between their two styles and, as such, nothing ever seems out of place. Never content to stand still, both men have used Microstoria as a way to express themselves in ways not possible with their full-time projects. The give-and-take, action-and-reaction nature of collaboration -- already apparent on their studio LPs -- comes to its complete and natural fruition here, resulting in an album that, as abstract as it is on its surfaces, rewards close listening and offers a rare insight into the creative process.