The best music about tectonic forces rarely announces itself with grandeur. It oozes, seeps, fractures - erupting in asymmetrical spasms rather than following the polite arcs of classical composition. "Porœs", the first collaborative album from no-input sorcerer Simon Grab and percussionist David Meier, is such a record: a volatile slab of improvisation where the ground never quite settles beneath your feet.

For those unfamiliar with the architects of this controlled collapse: Grab has made a name for himself by weaponizing feedback loops, turning mixer circuitry into a self-sustaining sonic organism that gurgles, screeches, and occasionally purrs. Meier, on the other hand, comes from the rhythmically rigorous world of avant-rock minimalism (notably with Schnellertollermeier), where tightrope-walking between structure and entropy is standard practice. Together, they forge a sound that’s neither led by percussion nor electronics but exists in a constantly shifting dialogue between the two - like a conversation between a fault line and the magma bubbling beneath it.

The track titles suggest geological processes ("Basalt", "Felsic", "Igneous"), and the music follows suit: dense layers of sound grinding against each other, reshaping themselves under pressure. Opener "Basalt" sets the tone with a slow, bubbling tension, Meier’s drumming skittering like falling rockslides while Grab’s electronics pulse and wheeze, searching for a foothold. "Stream" is a roiling mass of overlapping frequencies, where Meier’s rhythms seem to emerge not from a drum kit but from the earth itself - glacial yet strangely fluid. The aptly named "Pillow" offers a moment of (relative) calm, a subterranean lullaby where Grab’s tones stretch and ripple like molten rock cooling into fragile formations.

What makes "Porœs" so exhilarating is its inherent fragility. Grab’s no-input system teeters on the edge of self-destruction, constantly threatening to slip into chaos, while Meier’s drumming alternates between guiding and goading, sometimes reinforcing the electronic spasms, sometimes undermining them with a rhythmic misdirection. This is music that thrives in uncertainty - a documentation of two musicians balancing on a sonic fault line, daring the next tremor to hit.

Like an earthquake recorded in slow motion, "Porœs" captures the moment where solid structures begin to liquefy, where improvisation turns into erosion, and where noise and rhythm dissolve into one another. It is, quite simply, an album that doesn’t just sound like it’s about to collapse - it wants to collapse, and therein lies its beauty.