Halvorson plays in a dizzying array of set ups. So, it’s a pleasure to see how she’s maintained and nurtured the band that so illuminated 2022’s extraordinary Amaryllis. While the writing for that sextet occurred in the thrall of Covid lockdowns, Cloudward marks a leap forward into a new, more intuitive world. Unlike Amaryllis, Cloudward was thoroughly road-tested, so there’s an intimacy, a confidence this multi-gifted band has in its relationship with this often complex, yet ever-accessible music.

Where Amaryllis had reams of polyphonic sections with all the band playing simultaneously, many of Cloudward’s songs have a cell like construction. This allows more space for individuals and for each section to declare itself before it segues into a greater whole. For example, ‘The Tower' starts with a Halvorson solo echoed by a long delay (a solo that’s a duo with its wraith-like sister). Then, almost un-noticed, Brennan, picks up the shimmer before the horns gather around the theme. It’s a stunning piece that wears it complexities lightly, at once an ensemble song, yet there’s a clarity and separation for each of the voices. If that sounds too technical, there’s also a passion underwriting each number, notably expressed by Garchik’s trombone as he hi-jacks the raffish ‘Tailhead’. The only carp is there’s less of Halvorson’s guitar to the fore, although she goes super-nova on ‘Desiderata’, the only cut with distortion, and it’s all the more hell-breaks-loose for the contrast. Another triumph for Halvorson as composer/arranger and guiding spirit.