Hiromi and Castaneda are musical soul brother and sister: each has a ridiculous facility on their instrument, each has the showboating flair of the natural entertainer and neither are going to play one note when they can squeeze in a dozen. It's no surprise that this concatenation of cuts is impulsive and propulsive, with big chords, bigger energy and a love of a sweeping melody. There are moments of reflection, as on the closing ‘Libertango’, and when Hiromi tunes into the vibe of mentor Chick Corea, as on the Spanish-like opening choruses of ‘Moonlight Sunshine’, there's a real sense of joy. Given Castaneda's heritage there's a strong latin feel throughout, lighting up ‘A Harp In New York’, (echoes of Lorca maybe?), though Castaneda's not averse to a volley of stunt harp antics on the good fun frolics of ‘Cantina Band’. He can also imitate Al Di Meola, as on ‘Air’ (and they both ‘do’ Pastorius on ‘For Jaco’). It's all rattling good stuff, boggling in virtuosity and velocity but, oh, for a little space and soul.