"How else to begin than by diving in, letting yourself be submerged, drifting as if weightless. And where does it start? With thirty seconds of breath, suspended between apnea and respiration, with Crinière; I'm reminded at once that the bow's manes come -- I'm told -- from the best horses in Mongolia. We recognize you, Kassap, for your rhythm, for the way you suck in the sky right from the start, it's as if you turn on the ignition, then your engine revs up - and us with it -- and the road opens up today to Marseille as it once did to Kishinev. And then it tapers off, almost expires, sets off again, with your passengers who are more than just passing through, and comes to an end all the same, because at some point you have to stop, and set off again. A trombone and drums join the double bass and clarinet. Steve Swell, Chad Taylor, Benjamin Duboc, Sylvain Kassap, you compose a quartet. Edges, in the plural, the edges, the margins, I don't mind, but extended to the whole territory, you explore them without missing a beat, they give the title and it's our good fortune to be able to follow you, for eleven pieces. The album closes with a composition by Steve Swell', 'Periscope (for Perry Robinson),' clarinetist and traveler extraordinaire. I really like this underside, which goes slowly, or not, because it sometimes goes roughly, these fragments of sonic fabric, this geological petticoat, these Texture #3 and Texture #7, these two sovereign improvisations (919 and 991), this kind of basso continuo, this more or less unpredictable aside that is the very essence of life. This record is anything but providence, and yet it still bears something resembling it, not what it cannot foresee or prepare for, but what it does provide and makes us less helpless. With great surges and shatters, is it the beginning of a brighter tomorrow, and if so, how? The question and the answer can only be suggested, and I always remember that everything is moving at an unbelievable speed." --Rogueart