Mollestad's great gift is to use music to give voice to those who have had their own taken from them. With this large scale ensemble piece, Mollestad takes a fresh turn in her composing journey by foregrounding vocals. Solberg and Bjornstad's voices evoke mothers, children and humanity in their most vulnerable yet celebratory incarnations. In its dark re-working of Scott Walker's uncanny ‘The Farmer in the City’, the opening vox of ‘On the Horizon Part 1’ evokes the horror of migrating mothers and children (and fathers) abandoned to their deaths at sea as they desperately seek sanctuary.

Even the apparent innocence of ‘Do Re Mi Ma Ma’ is an eerie inversion, more nursery crime than rhyme, even as Waade's violin kicks in lost, but lyrical.

This is full-on complex polyphonic music, sometimes evoking Live/Evil Miles, with Mollestad privileging space for soprano and tenor sax solos that are as in your face as those big themes she lays down for the ensemble. Given that, Lofthus’ bombast on drums is appropriate if at times terrifying, especially on the closing ‘Maternity Suite’ which wrenches to a halt like Sibelius’ Fifth Symphony.

Mollestad has a sharp humour and endless resourcefulness. ‘Donna Ovis Peppa’ is a post bop rave, ‘Salt Peanuts’ on a sugar rush, powered by crunching keys. There's also a tenderness, but no false sentiment: ‘Her Own Shape’, with its spoken meditation on maternity (‘My self within me will split to be larger/Will part to be stronger’) is as unblinkingly honest as it is moving. A cry of love indeed.