The latest offering from Dans les arbres, "L’album vert", is a masterclass in the art of the unexpected - a sonic puzzle whose pieces never quite fit, yet form something captivatingly whole. This is an album where sound is both a presence and an absence, where instruments flirt with structure only to abandon it for the thrill of pure exploration. It’s like stepping into an avant-garde dance hall where the floor shifts underfoot, and the walls hum with the voices of the past.

For nearly two decades, the collective - Xavier Charles (clarinet), Ivar Grydeland (pedal steel guitar), Christian Wallumrød (prepared piano, electronics), and Ingar Zach (gran cassa, percussion, electronics) - has been refining its unique approach to group improvisation. And yet, with "L’album vert", they seem to press further into uncharted territory, leaning heavily on electronics and experimental recording techniques without losing their organic, almost tactile sound.

This album is, as the liner notes suggest, a "net full of holes". The space between sounds is as vital as the sounds themselves. Xavier Charles’ clarinet dances delicately over Grydeland’s warped pedal steel guitar, their interplay resembling a conversation carried out in whispers and half-thoughts. Wallumrød’s prepared piano offers moments of fractured beauty, while Zach’s percussive experiments - part factory rhythm, part natural resonance - ground the music in a world that feels simultaneously industrial and pastoral.

The three tracks - "les yeux écoutent", "les oreilles voient", and the sprawling "une danse imaginaire" - are less compositions than evolving landscapes. In "les yeux écoutent", subtle clarinet tones weave through sparse percussion like shadows passing across a field. "les oreilles voient" adds a sense of quiet propulsion, its electronics bubbling beneath the surface like a hidden stream. And "une danse imaginaire" is the pièce de résistance: a 22-minute journey through fragmented rhythms, delicate textures, and moments of almost cinematic tension.

If this is a dance floor, it’s one where no one is quite sure of the steps. There’s a beat - if you squint hard enough - but it’s the beat of a steam engine sputtering into life or a clockwork contraption teetering on the edge of function. The result is both amusing and unsettling, a reminder that true artistry lies in embracing the unpredictable.

The visual component is equally striking, with Marina Rheingantz’s oil painting "Portrait of a Sound" gracing the cover. Its abstract forms mirror the music’s exploratory nature, a reminder that "L’album vert" is as much about perception as it is about performance.

For those familiar with Dans les arbres, this album is a continuation of their singular journey - a refinement of their "peculiar sound world", as it’s often called. For newcomers, it’s an invitation to step into an auditory universe where the rules of music are rewritten in real-time. Either way, "L’album vert" is a deeply rewarding listen, a testament to the power of collaboration, and a reminder that sometimes, the most meaningful art emerges from the spaces between the notes.

Play it loud, play it soft, play it while staring at the ceiling and wondering if sound can, in fact, cast shadows. Just don’t expect to leave the same way you arrived.