[...] Klaas Hübner is as much of an engineer, or perhaps toymaker as he is a composer. Sog collects several recordings made between 2013 - 2016 in Zürich, Berlin, and New Orleans, each of which is pretty wildly different, utilising custom made instrumentation that ranges from whirly tubes and ceiling fans to cassette tapes and chunks of styrofoam. The common feature is a chant like quality, and straight from the get go on ‘single tube’, Hübner whirls a plastic tube over his head creating a simple (and surprisingly melodic) composition. The crisscrossing ticking of metronomes, industrial hiss and crackle of tape loops, and gong like tones of springs attached to styrofoam all make an appearance, but the drone of the whirly tubes is Hübner’s most compelling tool, appearing on two other extended pieces, the latter of which utilises a specially built 10m tall tower fitted with huge fans and tubing.[...] but for the most part both Tompkins, like Hübner, sound precisely like nothing else. Totally strange, and even more brilliant
The Quietus, Tristan Bath

He also built the tallest and most elegantly shaped of the five constructions [...]The two-story sculpture [...] produces eerily wonderful sounds through an ingenious blend of spinning ceiling fans and loosely wound plastic plumbing pipe. Imagine the voices of tattooed angels emerging from a castle tower.                                                                                                   
Washington Times, Doug MacCash

Those gathered hushed, and I wondered what part of this stripped-down shack could possibly be played by musicians, until Schrock and Hubner pulled, gently, slowly, on cords hanging from the fans, and as they spun faster, tubes attached to the blades caught the air, and an ethereal, choral song filled the space.
[...] “It sounds like angels!” A woman next to me whispered, “I’ve never heard that sound before when I was awake.” [...]The transparency of Chateau Poulet, and the grace of the music, makes me acutely aware of the nature of musical creation itself, how sound stems from the passage or vibration of air. 
Oxford American, Delaney Nolan

One of the best examples is Chateau Poulet, by Andrew Shrock and Berlin-based artist Klaas Huebner: their house plays on New Orleans’ ceiling fans. A series of fans actually protrude from the structure itself, and power sounds are generated by hollow tubes attached to the blades. Geared speed controls affect harmonics, and the fans are played by dramatically pulling on ropes in the base of the structure.
My New Orleans 

“Sog”; however, hearing this music as music, in the form of an audio recording, allows different layers of the work, such as its concern with timbre and melody, to come to the fore. As such, it’s an ear-opening perspective on the art of a very intriguing and imaginative artist.
          Fluid Radio - Experimental Frequencies, Nathan Thomas

Und dann ist da auch noch Klaas Hübner, der eine richtige Waschmaschine zerlegt, der er dann während der (Text-)Arbeit seiner Bühnenkollegen zu einer schleudernden, vibrierenden, wasserpumpenden Musikmaschine umbaut, die irgendwie auch noch ein Eierkocher ist und die gegen Ende des Abends in einer Performance auf Touren gebracht wird, […]
Tages Anzeiger, Andreas Tobler, 22.10.2011 

[…] Who knew that such beauty could come from something so seemingly maudlin and soulless?[…] the three-part “schwarzwald” offers tape manipulation reminiscent of an unhinged Kid Koala, complete with whistles and warbles, scratches and screams.[…] the combination of story, sight and sound presented here is extremely compelling.
a closer listen, Richard Allen

[…] Klaas Hübner goes even more basic, fashioning everyday objects into sound-making devices that are full of resonant potential. Sog’s eight tracks see Hübner reimagining whirly tubes, ceiling fans, styrofoam, and cassette tapes into elegant and fragile works whose evocative chorales belie their humble originals. This is great listening, Hübner’s compositions having an almost sensuous physicality even as they seem to float in space like clouds of hyper-intelligent candy floss. Aeolian harps for the modern office. You don’t need to know how these sounds are made – Schwarzwald 1’s itchy growls are mysterious and detailed, and the recurring coos and clicks of Hübner’s manipulations of tubes and fans are mesmeric enough even if the titles didn’t hint at how those enigmatic sounds came into being. The wide-eyed chants of Chateau Poulet, for example, switch up from childlike wonder to unsettling revenant howls effortlessly, its emotional heft matched only by the seeming simplicity of its composition. But it’s fascinating to cast your eye over the insert that comes with the release, in which Hübner sketches how each individual piece was conjured into life – to learn that, in fact, the aformentioned ghostly moans of Chateau Poulet emerged from a specially created 10m-high tower containing a mechanical system which, in turn, controlled several fans, each equipped with whirly tubes. Armed with this information, we become witnesses to a heroic endeavour of sonic engineering. 
          we need no swords,