There’s an irredeemably joyous element to all of Glasson’s releases, but there is a very special reason why the eighth is so playful. Cosmo’s Cosmos is a celebration of Glasson’s son (called Cosmo, naturally) and the delights of parenting. And of being a child. And as such Cosmos joins the likes of Laura Jurd’s The Big Friendly Album and Hedvig Mollestad’s Maternity Beat as intimate explorations of maternity and parenting. That jazz can now embrace such lived experiences, can occasionally break out of its often male-centric approaches, makes the music all the richer and more relevant to wider audiences.

‘Chop Chop’ perhaps best captures the mood, swinging, and singing, a magically insouciant theme flows across chopped keys, brass spikes and floating electronics that flow into a rich trombone that would bring a smile to Annie Whitehead’s lips. And I wonder how she now sees the success of artists like Glasson compared to the very different jazz and rock world she experienced as a young woman.

Normally a multitude of styles on a release can dissipate its integrity. But with Cosmos, it’s the chameleon-like changes that illuminate just how wonderful the world of music can be, from the New Orleans bounce on ‘Crispy’, the Monk/Coltane bop quirk of the aptly monickered ‘Monktrain’, to the twangtastic cowboy jaunt of Spedding’s ‘Gunfight’ (and what a treat it is to have the guitarist's unique voice on board).

It ain’t easy to make happy music: but when jazz laughs out loud, it sounds a lot like Cosmo’s Cosmos.