Matthew Bourne’s extensive hunger for collaboration was starved during lockdown, and the second of two summer days playing with Northeastern trio Shiver at the pianist’s Yorkshire Dales home, stove lit and tunes and yarns shared at night, has a happy intensity. Bourne switched between piano and the radically rebuilt, polyphonic analogue MemoryMoog synth he debuted on moogmemory (2016), while Shiver guitarist Chris Sharkey electronically processed the quartet live, making instruments slip identities. A bit like Four Tet’s early folktronica albums, the result is intimately experimental.

‘Chromakode’ begins in an unfixed, ambient mist, the players swooping and clashing like birds on the wing, low and heavy to the ground, Bourne’s piano bass notes acting as drums while drummer Joost Hendrickx adds percussive colour, before Bourne rips into rapid, hummingbird shivers. ‘Flight of the Leather Bird’ sees Bourne settle into a passage of classical beauty which Sharkey’s warp-factor fractures like glass, then switch to Moog on ‘Pasadena Gravy’, sculpting SF soundscapes in sustained, slow waves. ‘From Ohio’ moves from West Riding dales to Midwest plains, Bourne seeming to pluck his piano, guitar-like, before distortion summons stampeding buffalo ghosts.

The 19-minute ‘Cactus & Roulette’ is a near-symphonic climax, piano ringing clear, before a movement led by Sharkey’s horn-like, electric guitar shreds amid dub echoes. Only Andy Champion’s bass holds his traditional rhythmic ground as musical natures transition around him. This companionable home session finds both unity and freedom, physical presence and its processed erasure.

Bourne’s collaboration with singer-songwriter Paula Rae Gibson was remotely recorded, as Gibson sent him songs from her debut No More Tiptoes’ study of grief, and he sent unrecognisable tracks back. Gibson in turn sang fresh lyrics in single takes, creating a wholly new song-cycle tracing obsessive love’s molten heat. She’s tremulously on the edge in ‘Breathing You’, Bourne comping on piano and burnishing with cello, then falls deeper into the consuming fire.

Her husky voice recalls Kate Bush at her most sensual on ‘Kisses Down His Back’, stretching languorously over the piano’s spare, supportive frame. Syllables are picked through like minefields, and soar and saw through sultry air. Pizzicato cello meets sibilant whispers on ‘In the Hole of More of This’, words coming in expulsive gasps. Bourne is most overt on ‘Ride the Light’, his harmonium suggesting sonorous, celestial church organ then folk-like accordion, as close-miked gusts of breath precede ecstatic proclamations. “Be everything with each other,” Gibson sings, sounding drugged with love. “Look in your eyes and die.”

Her and Bourne’s long-distance musical union is less overwhelming, but finely consummated.