Of course, no album comes from nowhere. Even a pedigree of touring with Marilyn Mazur and Manu Katche, or curating the forthcoming Molde jazz festival, doesn't prepare you for this gorgeously accomplished album.

Perhaps recording the album ‘super’ pregnant, as Wang describes it, turned a key, inspiring a mix of memory and desire captured in a dance between the light and the dark.

New collaborators Falt and Luft, each in superb form, have also re-visioned her sound. Falt brings an element of Paul Motian to the band, his brushwork gently assertive, the cymbals spacious, the simpler he plays the better he gets, as on the prairie wide ‘Recognise’. Luft is given much space, but he never abuses Wang's generosity. Instead his solos always build from the drama of the song, be it shatteringly dynamic on ‘Erasmus’ (in scary contrast to the guileless theme that opens the song), or rich with Martyn-like swells on ‘Recognise’.

But it's all under the control of Wang: Charlie Haden is her sonic inspiration, and Haden-like she pares down her double bass to glow in the dark single notes taken at majestically slow tempos. In contrast her vox, sparingly used, has a folkish clarity that breathes new life into surprising (but Haden connected) covers like ‘Nobody Knows’ and, most notably, ‘Lonely Woman’. Her bass and voice are so closely miked you can hear Wang's every breath. If we are deprived of Wang's presence at this year's London Jazz Festival, it will be a significant loss for us all.