This could be called the Village Vanguard rite of passage. A live album from one of the most storied of jazz clubs, whose small stage and tightly enclosed seating area have the spirits of Ornette, Dolphy and Trane soaked right into them, is almost a sine que non for whoever seeks to be part of that linage. For saxophonist Mark Turner, the venue appears to be a particularly good fit, not least for his stature as a contemporary tenor titan whose large discography shows constant artistic growth.

Above all, his quartet is an engagingly organic extension of the rich history encapsulated by the aforesaid icons and Turner’s chemistry with trumpeter Jason Palmer, which reaches back over a decade, is compelling for the way it is precise yet malleable, giving each player freedom within a stated form. In fact, the result stands in that interesting space between straightahead and avant-garde, where the tradition of the piano-less small group that swings hard but also pushes harmony ‘out’ is upheld with great discipline.

There is an appealingly loose, funky momentum in the drums and bass engine of Jonathan Pinson and Joe Martin while Palmer has expansive phrasing which is offset by a tone that can be as mournful as joyful. As for Turner, with his emblematic ‘steam heat’ cry and arcing, volleying lines, he is a thrilling soloist, who, judiciously, does not overwhelm the band. This is high energy, emotionally charged ensemble music that has a slight hint of Max Roach’s somewhat unheralded 1980s quartet featuring Odean Pope and Cecil Bridgewater, but first and foremost this is an essential document of Mark Turner hitting a creative apex at a decisive stage of his career.