Commitment is a principle that runs deep in the ethos of Nevelle Records, its loyal subscribers and, most importantly, its artists. The annual subscription model ($400 plus shipping) means those signing up for the label's bi-monthly releases throughout the course of a year are trusting the imprint to curate a high-calibre artist roster, produce music of exceptional quality and with top-notch packaging: here featuring eye-opening gatefold artwork from the camera obscura photography of acclaimed Polish artist Maciej Markowicz and diligently selected prose from French author Ingrid Astier. But it's the vinyl-only nature of the releases that's the antithesis of ubiquitous digital music consumption. Now on their third season there's no doubting that Newvelle's founders Elan Mehler and Jean-Christophe Morisseau have really hit their stride, with some compelling debut sessions and real exclusives. The season began with guitarist Steve Cardenas' Charlie & Paul, which pays homage to two of his former employers, Charlie Haden and Paul Motian. Drummer Matt Wilson, saxophonist Loren Stillman and bassist Thomas Morgan combine with sublime understanding, as Cardenas threads finely wrought solos through the softly simmering rhythm section, with Stillman following suit with his beatifically burnished sax lines.

Next up is Chicagoan saxophonist Andy Zimmerman's Half Light, a season three highlight, featuring a drummer-less quartet of trumpeter Dave Douglas, pianist Kevin Hays and bassist Matt Penman, all sensitively navigating eight originals, plus a rare performance of Ellington's ‘Sunset and The Mockingbird’ and Hermeto Pascoal's ‘Montreux’, together with one piece by label boss Mehler. The absence of percussion is not an issue, with Penman's solid groove underpinning Hays' golden chords, as Zimmerman and Douglas move with balletic poise through this drop-dead gorgeous album.

Benin-born guitarist Lionel Loueke seems to be on sideman speed-dial for everyone from Herbie Hancock to Danish saxophonist Luboš Soukup (and many more), so in-demand is his distinctive Afro-futurist sound. Thus Close Your Eyes is an extremely rare chance to hear him exploring jazz standards in near-telepathic union with the top-drawer rhythm team of Rogers and Harland. The trio sensitively dissect and reassemble the likes of ‘Footprints’, ‘Blue Monk’ and ‘Naima’, with a hushed intensity that's all the more intimate for the warmth of the vinyl listening experience.

Maverick stylists are rare today, which makes two on one album a real coup, with influential Icelandic bass master Skúli Sverrisson and king of guitar quirkiness Bill Frisell, meeting for the first time on record. The bassist's artful early 1990s shredding with the late great Allan Holdsworth brought him global acclaim, but here his semi-acoustic sound – thanks to his use of a 1960s archtop Gretsch bass – perfectly pairs with Frisell's highly nuanced sensibility. Strata is a rarefied partnership made in guitar heaven, one piece flowing into the next as the bassist's meandering chord progressions draw out Frisell's most creative instincts on an inspired session.

It's not all quiet storms here, thanks to Cuban drummer Francisco Mela and his kinetic band of pianist Kris Davis, bassist Gerald Cannon and saxophonist Hery Paz, who whip up a frenetically tight sound on Ancestros. Riding the gritty beats, pianist Davis unfurls an abundance of ideas, which are grist to Paz's spicy soloistic mill, as his rasping tone cuts across the line between form and freedom with knife-edge precision.

With this collection of six sessions all hitting such a high benchmark of taste and inventiveness, Boston trumpeter Jason Palmer's cool-sounding album, Fair Weather, comes over as the least imaginative of the bunch. An excellent player with a warm, glowing tone, Palmer leads with confidence. Yet, it's emerging piano star Leo Genovese's jarring attempt to up the ante by shoehorning angular, fleet-fingered solos into the straightahead grooves, which undermines the chilled mood set up by bassist Joe Martin and drummer Kendrick Scott. It still sounds fantastic – but lacks the cohesiveness and sparkling creativity that's present elsewhere on this frequently thrilling six-album collection.