?Natoma? is the beginning in a never-ending series of live releases on Tarentel?s very own Root Strata imprint. These are limited to 500 copies, and come in the usual lovely silk-screened jackets. Tarentel have been coming into their own recently, with last year?s vinyl-only ?Home Ruckus? and now this.

Originating with a short-lived, muffled, metallic rumbling high above the land, it rapidly descends into a hectic mechanic drone, and a whirling wind saturates the jazz-tinged improv, circling till it fades into a semi-silence. Minimal piano stems from the uneasiness, an eerie growth supported by the violin. It is the eye of the storm. Buzzing like broken tube lighting, it lumbers onwards, clumsily and drowsily, stretching out its arms and yawning. Half conscious from the destruction before, it drags itself across the open land, meandering, building in strength, crashing and clashing until it disperses, leaving a silenced tension that is always on the verge of threatening to erupt. Incidents such as minor crashing and reverbed rattling that occur occasionally add to the suspense, rustling through the trees, causing mainly cosmetic damage to all it touches, in what could be described as a silent destruction, much in the same way as when you see silent footage of a storm. There is a serene beauty to its tense nature. Wearily, the twilight murmurings collide with the instrumentations in an insurmountable battle, in which the drone of the wind reigns supreme and resumes slightly dishevelled but otherwise unaffected.

The group as a whole unleash their greatest assault on the final track. The consummate conflict between organic drone, and the man-made instrumentation results in a brutish stand off. Fluidity combines with disjointed improv which is in continual disarray with the drone.

While the battle between jazz and drone may have been intentionally anti-climactic, as this looming giant fades out, the realisation hits you.? It was the inharmonious beauty that prevailed. 9/10 -- James Clarke (28 August, 2006)