As Morris says in his sleeve notes, the accent is on ‘the long form.’ With each of the opening two pieces topping the 25-minute mark, it is tempting to argue that he is talking first and foremost about the extended duration of a composition, but that would be too superficial an interpretation of the manifesto. What counts is the abundance of ideas and the fluidity with which one creative impulse gives way to another, so much so that there are myriad sections or movements in a single piece, but they are not telegraphically announced during what must have been an intense gig at The Stone in New York. Morris is a highly melodic player who favours skittering, often-quicksilver single note lines rather than bulk and brawn chords to the extent that the ensemble sound is practically akin to an electric violin-bass-percussion unit rather than a guitar-bass-drums trio. Having said that, the ‘fiddler’ sensibility runs across the two string instruments and certainly in the latter part of ‘Exosphere’ Parker summons something of a wild country blues ambience by way of hyperactive arco work before Morris cranks things up with a series of tightly coiled, tempo-shifting lines that vaguely recall Gabor Szabó's work with Chico Hamilton in a bygone era. Not to be underestimated in the group, Cleaver both reinforces and counterpoints his accompanists by way of long, artfully broken phrases or bouncy, jaunty two beat patterns that are mildly calypsolike in feel. Spontaneous, interactive music – credited to all of the players – can run the risk of being overly dense if the onus is on the assumed need to do ‘something’ at all times. Despite the large amount of notes played, this trio has a lightness of being, and that is as related to the precise control of volume, attack and intonation as it is the judicious use of space. This is demanding, absorbing music that requires a full engagement by the listener. But it is, for the most part, rewarding.