Brazilian saxophonist Pereleman has been one of the most consistent of Leo's artists, contributing some thirteen titles in 15 years, the bulk of which have emotional power and technical prowess in equal measure.

Above all he has a tonal richness that stands out for its combination of punchy, bulbous, often highly vocalised phrases and more airy, fluttering lines that lean towards a certain introspection, even if there remains a slightly somber edge. Don Byas' maxim about all the best music encompassing both “the beauty and the brutality” seems to guide his music in some way, and in the company of this grade A American rhythm section, Perelman has a chance to probe arrangements that stand out mostly for the fluidity of tempo and openness of harmony, none more so than a piece such as the title track, where a whirl of constant soloing from each member of group creates a bubbling waterfall effect which the saxophonist surfs at will. His alternation of fast, cuttingly thin notes in the high register and lengthier bass drawls, where one can almost feel the bell of the horn vibrating, impress for the sprinkle and splash that they provide to the liquid nature of the music, which is emphasised by the way Morris and Cleaver stream constantly around a tonal centre. Gato Barbieri once did similar things back in the mid 60s and although the avant-garde leanings of Perelman's work are clear enough, there is an episodic richness that marks him out as a soloist who wants to unwind a narrative thread in the most unexpected way. With that in mind he is as indebted to the un-categorisable invention of his compatriot Hermeto Pascoal as he is to the spiritual invocations of Albert Ayler. Another solid entry in Perelman's substantial discography, and a worthwhile document of an ensemble that more than likely, delivers the goods on stage.