(Monk Mink Pink Punk) A trio of trumpet, bass and drums that plays a seething mass of extended techniques instead of the melodic jazz I was expecting from the instrumentation. This is not jazz on any level; this is bowed scrapes, smoochy lip sounds, clangs and rubbed sounds, very rich and complex, and very enjoyable to my ears. I just realized the group name is an acronym of its members, Brad Henkel, Sean Ali and David Grollman. More, please. - Josh Ronsen

(Dead Angel) This trio operates with standard instruments -- trumpet, bass, and snare drum -- but they sure don't do standard things. They're big on dissonance and their musical offerings are couched in largely atonal bursts of sound broken up by the rumbling and puttering of the individual instruments being shaken and beaten to disgorge new dimensions of the shape of sound. At times they start off in a subtle, unassuming fashion, but it doesn't take long before they whip themselves into a chaotic frenzy of throbbing improv action bordering on noise. Still, there's an interesting texture to their bleating hell tones, and a number of divergent strategies that result in a reasonable amount of variety between the seven tracks. More to the point, they mesh together well as a unit, with a clear unity of vision that translates to a recognizable sound, one that remains consistent despite their different approaches from one track to the next. The trumpet -- bleating, whining, frequently sounding like a horn of the devil -- is the most dominant instrument here, although it's the percussion that provides the most intense moments and the smothering bass sound that provides the atmosphere. Strange and deranged, but possessed of a certain purpose, no matter how alien, that makes it all the more compelling to hear. - RKF

(Killed In Cars) Like KBD, Hag’s name comes from the last names of the musicians involved: in this case, Brad Henkel on trumpet, Sean Ali on bass, and David Grollman on snare drum. This Brooklyn trio plays a fine brand of meditative free improv, working with layers of texture rather than any kind of trad jazz vocabulary. Henkel’s trumpet work sometimes reminds me of Nate Wooley’s catalog of otherworldly sounds, and David Grollman’s snare drum work similarly deconstructs his instrument of choice—I don’t think there’s a moment on the album where I would’ve pinpointed what I’m hearing as coming from a snare. Instead he works with scraping, rubbing, and (I’m pretty sure) blowing directly on the drum head, as there are moments where it sounds like there are two horns playing. Sean Ali’s bass playing is the closest to convention on the album, with occasional cascades of chromatically ascending or descending lines and even brief passages of bowed work, but he too works to draw extended sounds from his bass. My favorite track is also the longest, “Moist Again,” placed in the center of the album. It shows off how well the group listens to one another, each member getting moments where they lead the ensemble, coming to the front of the mix and moving the group into new variations in texture. It also features an especially wide dynamic range, contrasting not just loud and quiet sections in terms of volume but also with variations in density at both ends of the volume spectrum. The title track, which closes the album, also features some of the louder passages on the record, as well as some trumpet lines played with considerable crunch in the instrument’s lower range, sounding surprisingly like a woodwind instrument instead of brass. - Scott Scholz

(Monsieur Délire) A trumpet/bass/snare drum trio (Brad Henkel, Sean Ali, David Grollman). They make a lot of noise. Rubbery music that flexes and stretches. Relatively short tracks, some are punchy, getting close to Fire Music (“Piss Prophet”), while others feature distended textures. - François Couture

(Avant Music News) HAG – the name is an acronym derived from the last names of trumpeter Brad Henkel, bassist Sean Ali and snare drummer David Grollman – are an ensemble specializing in the unorthodox use of orthodox instruments. The pieces collected here focus on the broad textural possibilities available to acoustic instruments, offered up in an often clamorous pile-on of sound. Occasionally one can identify Grollman’s cymbal scraping the head of his snare, or individual notes from Ali’s pizzicato bass, or Henkel’s breath passing along the length of his trumpet. Most often though the improvisations take the form of a dense collision of sounds pulled directly from wood, metal and plastic. A sonic adventure indeed. - Daniel Barbiero

(Sound Projector) The Brooklyn trio Hag are doing interesting things with just a trumpet, bass and a single snare drum on Moist Areas (EH?56), as it were reducing a traditional jazz trio set-up to an atonal sound-production unit concerned with issuing forth rumbles, groans and agitated utterances from the lower registers. The snare drum in particular is most effective – it’s rarely struck, often rolled and rubbed to make it sigh like the stomach of a wounded bear. The freely improvising threesome of Brad Henkel, Sean Ali and David Grollman tend to eschew minimalism, and seem at their happiest when all three are letting rip at once with grumbly snorts and errant percussive bleats. The eight-minute ‘Moist Again’ is a real corker on that account, but so is the title track; it’s like hearing your favourite Pharoah Sanders records played at half-speed on a Dansette, while someone is also sawing the Dansette in half with a blunt instrument. - Ed Pinsent

(Muzykoteka) Recenzja: HAG to nowojorskie trio Brad’a Henkel’a, Sean’a Ali’ego i David’a Grollman’a, którzy w swym mie?cie s? bardzo aktywnymi muzykami, cho? s?uch o nich rzadko poza jego granice wyp?ywa. Panowie graj? odpowiednio na tr?bce, kontrabasie i werblu, cho? w ich r?kach nie us?yszycie tych instrumentów w tradycyjnym uj?ciu. Sonorystyka, free improwizacja i eksperymenty brzmieniowe to trzy zjawiska jakie eksploruje HAG. Na ‘Moist Areas’ wydano brookly?ski koncert z 2011 roku, podczas którego uchwycono zwierz?c? natur? muzyków. S?ycha? ich osobliwy stosunek do instrumentów, okre?li?bym go jako co najmniej zdystansowany. Wydaje si?, ?e chc? im zrobi? krzywd?, ale nie przez jeden mocny i skuteczny cios, a raczej powoli si? nad nimi zn?caj?c. Instrumenty si? wij?, skowycz?, warcz?, sycz?, parskaj?, charcz? i szczekaj?, ostrzegaj? i gro??, ale nie gryz?, nie atakuj?. Ta ca?a agresja zdaje si? by? silnie kontrolowana i opanowana. W?ciek?o?? si? k??bi, ale nie eksploduje. Brakuje troch? szale?stwa. W ostatnich utworach zm?czone walk? opadaj? z si? i ju? tylko si? pieni?, op?ta?czo poj?kuj?, a? im ?lina cieknie. ‘Wilgotne Obszary’ pokazuj? trio przede wszystkim jako zwarty i zgrany sk?ad z jasn? i skutecznie realizowan? wizj?. Gdyby nie wypisano we wk?adce instrumentów, ci??ko by?oby mi odgadn?? co generuje poszczególne d?wi?ki. Bardzo trudno dos?ucha? si? w tym materiale tr?bki, werbla i kontrabasu. Ró?norodno?? wydobywanych brzmie? i d?ugo?? p?yty powoduj?, ?e materia? nie nudzi i z ?atwo?ci? docieramy do ko?ca. W tym wszystkim brakuje mi tylko pomys?u na to, co zrobi? z tymi oryginalnymi d?wi?kami. Szkoda, ?e nie uk?adaj? si? w porywaj?ce struktury, skoro ju? Panowie nie zdecydowali si? uwolni? tego zwierz?cego rytua?u bez pami?ci i ogranicze?. Opakowanie: Opakowanie jest bardzo proste. Wk?adka jest zgi?ta wpó? i z p?yt? w ?rodku wsuni?ta w foliow? kieszonk?. Z przodu znajduje si? grafika Ian’a Pyper’a, a z ty?u lista utworów i p?ac. Oprócz ok?adkowego pseudo-biologicznego schematu ?yj?tka, które przypomina pierwotniaka, najbardziej rozczula brokatowy papier w kolorze miedzianym. - Krzysztof Pietraszewski

(Kathodik) Gran bella impro da Brooklyn. Rantolante, stridente, soffocante. Per tromba, rullante e contrabbasso. Son tre folli, Brad Henkel, Sean Ali e David Grallman. Un suono minimale, trattenuto, tra sfregamenti d'insieme e zone di libera battuta. Tensivo e non conciliante. Che parte dal jazz (piů o meno), si apparta come un lungo drone incubico (smangiucchiato dai topi), erompe come demente musica da camera (umida e scalcinata), e non dispiacerebbe a Tom Waits e Ralph Carney (il ghigno č lo stesso). Sette movimenti, cinematografici, cigolanti, ridicoli e sbuffanti, non di meno ammirevoli (per intransigenza e spirito kamikaze). Una splendida bellezza sdentata. Lynch apprezzerebbe. Noi pure. - Marco Carcasi