“Pressurized intensity would appear to be Wilkinson’s favored mode of expression. In truth there are points during the CD’s 60 minutes, when reed slurs, cries and mastication appear inadequate for all he wants to express. At those occasions he begins vocalizing, either with echoing basso puffs or acute yelps. On First Fall for instance, these aren’t random grunts, but yodels, whoops, lip-bubbling and chanting that fit the narrative the way similar verbal outbursts from tribal musicians complement their playing. Nonetheless, with First Fall percolating for more than 32½ minutes and the other two tracks nearly 16 and almost 13 minutes respectively, it’s evident that the saxophonist’s productivity has no beginning and no end. Tracks appear to finish when he runs out or breath or stamina, not ideas. On later tracks with Fell’s sprawling, percussive bass strokes and Hession’s drags strokes and shivering cymbals behind him, Wilkinson lets loose with throated reflux from the baritone saxophone that so quickly soars to screaming altissimo that you wonder if he has actually returned to the smaller sax. Even as The Submission ends with a cornucopia of reed-shredding harmonics and shrill split tones, it’s nearly certain that the defining climax of moderato and curvaceous line extensions comes from the alto. With more than one-half hour devoted to First Fall however, the saxophonist as well as his cohorts have even more space in which to explore the variants of dissonant interaction. Backed by Fell’s unvarying rhythmic pulse and Hession’s drags, rebounds and door-banging smacks, Wilkinson keeps spinning new tones and timbres from his horns. When he isn’t vocally screaming multiphonics, the saxophonist builds up a collection of abstract lines, staccato vibrations and intense glossolalia as well as juddering bites and snorts. At points the drummer responds with cross sticking and drumstick scratches on a cymbal top as Fell scrubs spiccato textures. And, as elsewhere, there are sequences, almost always played on alto saxophone, where the reedist proves that, if so inclined, he can create a moderato, impressionistic interlude. Those intervals don’t last very long however, and shortly afterwards Wilkinson’s reed playing is off in the stratosphere again, packing enough ideas and reed timbres into his exposition that would give many other saxophonists material for a dozen forays. Finally as the rhythm section rolls along unperturbed and sympathetic, the saxophonist trades the split tones and flutters for slides and silences.” Ken Waxman JAZZWORD

“First Fall last for over half an hour but like all these performances seems to be imbued with a sort of inner logic, the kind that only comes from years of playing together. Initially Wilkinson’s volcanic alto sax squalls above the polyrhythmic flow of Hession’s drums. Hession is consistently busy here, rolling around his kit with an unstoppable flow. Wilkinson’s all action approach defies his colleagues to be anything less than busy, his vocalised shrieks almost demand an urgency and his two band mates don’t disappoint. The rumble of Fell’s bass is an omniscient presence as his two colleagues go head to head. At certain points Wilkinson removes the sax from his mouth and sings/chants in almost primal fashion, it’s one of his signature moves. Sometimes the music cools down from boiling point to embrace more impressionistic moments, freely structured scuttlings with the musicians probing the outer reaches of their instruments. Gradually the intensity builds again with Wilkinson wringing almost animalistic sounds from his baritone as Hession clatters around him. This is followed by a bout of almost shamanistic vocalising from Wilkinson before he finally falls silent to allow a brief dialogue between bass and drums before re-emerging on alto. At first he’s almost lyrical but the music becomes darker and more exploratory with Wilkinson making use of multiphonics before gradually ramping up the intensity again, his sax whinnying belligerently as the trio throw themselves into a sustained high energy coda. Taken as a whole the piece represents a journey, with peaks and troughs but with the trio never losing their intensity and focus. It’s not an easy trip but if listened to in the right frame of mind it’s one that is utterly absorbing- and you have to admire their physical resourcefulness if nothing else. The Submission begins with dirty sounding solo baritone complete with Roland Kirk style vocalisations, a tour de force crashed by the thunder of Hession’s drums. Then it’s all out sonic assault as the trio grab the audience by the throat only to fall away into a sinister, unnerving central passage featuring Wilkinson’s ghostly, wordless vocal, Fell’s eerily bowed bass and Hession’s low register mallet rumbles. When Wilkinson picks up the sax again the sounds he produces are almost unworldly, sounding strangled and full of brooding menace. Eventually something relatively more conventional emerges with a lengthy Wilkinson solo above the incessant polyrhythmic rumble of Hession’s drumming as the fifteen minute plus extravaganza plays itself out to the obvious delight of the Monmouth crowd. Second Fall is shorter but begins in similar fashion with solo Wilkinson, his other worldly sounds later underpinned by sepulchral arco bass. Hession’s drumming is fluid and impressionistic and there’s some more vocalising from Wilkinson before a sax melody tentatively emerges and Wilkinson solos relatively conventionally above Hession’s insistent polyrhythmic flow and Fell’s powerfully plucked anchoring bass. It’s not quite as full on as its predecessors but the trio still build up a fair head of steam with Wilkinson and Hession again going to head. There’s a tendency throughout this recording to view these two as the grapplers with Fell acting as a kind of referee. I’ll admit that I don’t always find improv the easiest of genres to get on with, I like the idea of it but don’t always find it easy to listen to, particularly on record. However it is thrilling to watch the process live, the thinking in the moment, the visual impact of extended instrumental techniques, the things that can’t always be appreciated on radio broadcasts or on album. Another analogy often used to describe the improv process is “painting pictures in sound” and there’s a certain irony in the fact that Wilkinson trained as a painter completing a Fine Arts degree at Leeds University before turning to music. Art’s loss was surely music’s gain. Recommended, but not for the faint-hearted.” Ian Mann THE JAZZ MANN

“If you’re a Briton of a certain age, the Hession/Wilkinson/Fell trio were the antidote to clichés about English insect music; to anyone else who caught on, they were evidence that free jazz of a very high order was not only still being made, but it didn’t have to sound just like records that were recorded before anyone saw that posthumously released picture of Lyndon Johnson with long hair. Then they spent a decade doing other things, some of them quite superb, but nothing quite the same as this trio — proof positive that they were on to something not only great, but essentially personal. Those guys had chemistry. Then they got back together in 2010; if you were that Briton, this record, made in Monmouth during that reunion tour might be proof that the guys still have it. The rest of us, who haven’t been so well situated geographically or temporally, will have to settle for saying that this is (ahem) free jazz of a very high order, capable of hitting as hard as your favorite Brötzmann-led combo, playing as nuanced as your favorite Parker/Guy/Lytton set, and audibly, utterly in the moment.” Bill Meyer TOKAFI

“Coffee required. Strong coffee. Hession/Wilkinson/Fell are three free jazz musicians jamming. Literally, they are jamming their sounds into one another, each note a miniature bumper car going at hyper speed, crashing into whatever other notes are lucky enough to exist split-seconds away. Notes. There’s a million of them on this album, at the very least. The drummer’s got this Buddy Rich big band style, but somehow even more ferocious (more ferocious than Buddy? Listen and call me a liar). The sax squawks and honks like Ornette Coleman’s, and the bass playing is somewhere in the Miroslav Vitous realm I’d say. The point is that this record showcases some absolutely impeccable playing, each instrument boldly flexing muscles and diving head-first into one another with grappling acrobatics. The title of the album hints that this is something of a wrestling match, but it’s hard to consider these three as opposing forces in any way. This is a playful bout, more about exercise and fun than it is about bragging rights or “winning.” It’s an interplay, an exchange, and like the best jazz, it’s really a conversation. First Fall, the first of three tracks on the record, kicks off with a striking intensity before things drop off after about ten minutes into an extended moment of textural experimentation, scraping cymbals, playing the bass with the end of a metal chair (maybe?), and the sax moaning and groaning in controlled stuttering bursts, like it’s frantically searching for breath. Elsewhere, the track’s daunting 30 minutes of music contain a lot of sheer randomness. Flying scales, drums toppling over themselves in 32nd-note craziness, and bass glissandos bookending areas of Ron Carter-style post-bop walking lines. Oh yeah, and one of them vocally barking along at times. And though the “trio” itself is nicely highlighted for the most part with no real instrument especially featured, Alan Wilkinson on sax does feel like the band’s leader. In certain spots, he takes off in stunning cadenza solos, growling a baritone saxophone, screeching in incredibly high-pitched shrieks (real nails-on-chalkboard types of sounds that are paradoxically pleasing to the ears), and really just generally a lot of ripping. This album, it rips—it’s a tough one to make it through in a sitting for casual home listening, but it makes you really wish you were at this show. As much a spectacle a thing it is to hear, it surely must have been something else to actually witness.” Crawford Philleo FOXY DIGITALIS

“Two Falls & A Submission, recorded in Monmouth, is the first proper Hession / Wilkinson / Fell disc since 2000's St. Johns on Ecstatic Peace!, but the trio hit like they hadn't missed a beat. On First Fall they jump in feet first: Wilkinson's baritone is searing and ecstatic, while Fell's painterly blend of arco and pizzicato triangulates the saxophonist's shakedowns and Hession's massive, angular swing. Once the saxophonist moves to alto, they work through soft and sinewy interplay, Fell and Hession breaking up time with intricate patterns, though they quickly return to characteristic peppery shouts. The Submission begins with a mêlée, furious arco and floor-shaking rumble a diabolical assist to Wilkinson's lung-busting, ruddy-faced salvos. Following a passage of guttural sparseness, his alto is front and center and the trio moves towards freebop in a manner recalling Brötzmann, Parker and Drake – harrowingly intense, but kind of groovy. I'm tired of hearing English improvisers described as coolly detached (you still hear people say that), especially since a group like HWF is so full of red meat and fire.” Clifford Allen PARIS TRANSATLANTIC