This sophomore effort by the Who Trio -- pianist Michel Wintsch with drummer Gerry Hemingway and bassist B„nz Oester -- is a rambling, startling exercise in textures, layered dynamics, and process. Certainly it is a jazz record, rife with beautifully studied compositions and carefully articulated improvisations; as such, it is a nocturnal, silky, wonderfully wrought piece of understated mastery. The opener, "Quartier Lointain," a collective improvisation, offers a bird's-eye view of the intimacy of these proceedings. Wintsch's pianism shimmers around two different melodic ideas as Hemingway double-times his way into near silence, underlining only the briefest of phrases. Oester falls in on separate measures, collating his way through the harmonics. Eventually, the tension increases just enough to bring the band together in a taut percussive exchange before Wintsch brings back his skeletal melody to break it. It's stunning. On Wintsch's "Swantra," bopped-up piano blues and swing are offered up as ghost figures for a new kind of knotty interchange as both Oester and Hemingway syncopate the already syncopated and turn harmonics around on one another in the process. The reading of "Jerusalem" here is one of the most elegant, emotionally beautiful, and challenging ever recorded. Its deep lyricism reflects the traditionally based folk melody the tune is composed on as a jazz construct, and offers the sheerest shade of the blues as an anchor to its exoticism. And so it goes -- until the last track as Ray Anderson's trombone is added to the mix. Oester's bowed bass and Hemingway's whispering cymbals introduce the tune. "J'Irai" seems to come from the desert itself. Its slowly unfolding melody and mode reflect the spirits of ancient musics and film noir jazz before becoming a tough, slightly out post-bop swing fest. It is arresting, deep, mysterious, and profound in its subtlety. This is a provocative way to end a recording where so much has already been introduced, but when it's the Who Trio, anything and everything is possible. Awesome. ~ Thom Jurek

This CD presents Atipico Trio's third lineup in three albums; then again, since the group releases an album every six to eight years, that's something you come to expect. And as long as Carlo Actis Dato stays on board, the wild experiments and entertaining zaniness will remain key features. This time around, the mighty baritone sax and bass clarinet player joins forces with Piero Ponzo (alto sax and clarinet) and Beppe Di Filippo (soprano, alto, and tenor sax) -- Ponzo is a regular member of Dato's enduring quartet and was featured on Atipico Trio's first opus, while Di Filippo has often teamed up with both. All three musicians contribute pieces on this album, but Dato and Ponzo are the most prolific. The music is gloriously irreverent, skipping styles as if it were skipping rope: Mediterranean folk, swing-era jazz, South American grooves, and avant-garde jazz recipes are deconstructed and reassembled into an extravagant vaudeville in which wolves dance the tango, Klezmer melodies are heard at Baghdad parties, love songs are meant to make you howl in laughter ("Chantant l'Amour Bucolique"), and music and language lessons are delivered over the phone. All three musicians occasionally sing, talk, shout, and growl. The best feature of the music is found in the fact that all this craziness is very precisely scored, yet sounds genuinely spontaneous. From the mock-bombastic intentions of "Wolf Symphony N. 37" to the Balkan-like dance tunes "Slavinia" and "Balkanian Getchuppa," Atipico Trio never drop the ball. The tight track sequence concentrates the energy even more, making for an exhilarating listening experience. Either you love or hate the joie de vivre in Dato's music, and this album will not change your opinion. ~ Fran‡ois Couture