Less than three seconds in, the world-famous Austrian physicist Erwin Schrödinger begins to speak. His words about “partial truth-value” fade beneath a repeating keyboard figure and a springy drum groove, setting the scene. Thirty-six minutes later the journey is over—gone in a flash—and Schrödinger returns. His 1952 talk is followed by a simple question: “What’s this quantum mechanics all about, then?” Good question. His 1935 thought experiment is notoriously hard to summarize, so here’s the shorthand: a cat, a box, a Geiger counter, a hammer, and a vial of hydrocyanic acid. The outcome is simultaneously logical and absurd. That paradox is the launchpad for the Bern duo Schrödingers Katze—keyboardist Simon Althaus and drummer Manuel Pasquinelli—who build with musical fragments: short sequences that advance steadily before slowly shifting; grooves that meander, dovetail, and slide across one another. Hints of early-’70s prog surface, stripped of baroque pomp. What remains is rhythmic intricacy—and moments of undefinable beauty. The pair call these fragments “positions,” the scaffolding of a dense, atmospheric music that triggers images: a rapid-fire chain of stills blooming into slow film scenes. It’s trance-like, both composed and improvised—like the ocean: waves forever the same, forever changing. Schrödingers Katze — SUPERPOSITION is a rewarding, often compelling debut. —Eric Facon, September 2020