Observing the possibilities of communication and correlation between voice and electronics – the means utilized by Wassermann and Barrett for “Pollen” – is likely to establish new levels of anxiousness if what one expects is just a regular polysource conversation. The extraordinarily wide spectrum of sonorities that this couple is able to produce is at one and the same time spectacular and hardly comprehensible, just like those heterogeneous scientific phenomena watched on Discovery that leave us intrigued but still totally ignorant at the end of the program. Sequences of dissected timbres, quirky outbursts of enthusiastic logorrhoea and clamorous outranging by Wassermann’s voice form a monstrous patchwork of unpredictability that won’t sound extraneous to those who already familiarized with the vocalist’s jargon, which also includes psychotic birds and demented sopranos in illusory trips to omniscience. Barrett’s recordings with Furt possess the same fragmented character, yet this collaboration rounds his sonic complexities quite a bit by introducing a give-and-take between humanity and machinery that specifies every event as a sum of trauma, disbelief and sarcasm. Definitely uneasy to digest if one lacks the proper groundwork, “Pollen” is in any case a splendid demonstration of evolutive acceleration, a testament to Wassermann and Barrett’s obstinate refusal of the first results during their continuous tries to wreck the barriers that separate composition and improvisation, mostly in favour of the latter but with a perceptible strategy within the apparent mess.