Piano and violin can be a tricky combination, as Coombes' original, 1979 liner notes acknowledged: “Countless composers have tried since to contrive some kind of homogeneity out of the instruments only to prove that the combination is immitigable. This, I think, explains why the two instruments on this record sound as if they hate each other.” Of course, it isn't true – or rather, while the instruments might hate each one, these musicians are so clearly in sync that, at moments, their improvisation could have been pre-composed. A sense of mischief pervades: the title comes from a double misprint found in Japanese liner notes, while cartoon-like illustrations adorn the inner sleeve like podgy Quentin Blakes. Abstract but not inaccessible, the sound is at times reminiscent of fragments of a Charles Ives or Béla Bartok score re-assembled at random, at others like a depressed and disorientated Stéphane Grappelli, punctuated by an occasional crash or wallop that could be Beresford falling off his piano stool. A delight.