ABCS are all about unity. Their bandname comes from the first letters of their last names, and their album cover shows three slightly slouching skeletons all decked out in a green glow. Their album is a proclamation about just how tight a band can get. By wielding sax (Gabe Andruzzi), drums (Josh Blair), and accordion (Pete Cafarella), ABCS deftly flaunt their skills by dealing in abrupt time changes, start and stop progressions, and a heavy mixture of solo, duet and trio work while remaining almost entirely outside of any obvious rock context.

The unity demonstrated throughout the six songs on ABCS relies on the band's incorporation of strange instrumentation. An accordion is yanked out of its usual Germanic setting and thrust into a punk rock Terry Riley/Phil Glass jam that references polka, ska, and Pauline Oliveros. The sax, which sticks more strictly to its typical jazz context and occasionally adds breathy, ambient elements, is constantly yelling across the room at the other instruments, ignoring their rabid retorts.

This album is the ABCS' debut release, and it shines with all the enthusiasm of anything new. It starts on an up note, kicking through the door and screaming, and doesn't stop pushing until the whole fucking mess grinds to a halt. It's mesmerizing and, oddly, very fresh sounding: though obviously informed by a variety of styles and philosophies, ABCS manage to avoid getting stuck on any of them.

And there's where ABCs really transcend their contemporaries: transition. The best improvisers are those who can shuffle in and out of various modes while remaining on all the time. These guys benefit from the same skills by keeping things dynamic, yet recognizable. And because they'll continue to play with each other in a way that is truly with each other, liberally using alchemy and accordion to accomplish their tasks, the album stands as a true testament to 1 + 1 + 1 = 1.

-Michael Bernstein, May 8th, 2002