Douglas’ musical curiosity knows no boundaries: here he is in essentially an all brass chamber context, with the fabulously talented Westerlies. And, oh yeah, some bloke on drums who nearly steals the show every time he lays stick on skin. Marshall’s contribution can’t be overlooked: on ‘Colonial Cubism’ he skitters around, behind, between, over and under the brassers as they keep the time meticulously leaving the drums free to sing their own path. The equally tight-yoked ‘Champion’ features a grinning Marshall solo, while Douglas smears and blueses his way over those fat trombone grunts. Though most of the songs are close ensemble pieces, Douglas of course manages to find his own space: he is a part of the ensemble process, but apart with his singular voice. That alchemy is magically achieved on the slower, chiming, ‘Swing Landscape’, that blues solo greasing in after three minutes like we knew it would, building to an epic second-line mayhem that takes us way away without losing control. Little and Giant; still and ever moving: the universe in a grain of sand indeed.