This is the art of the trio dealt with three very different ways. Perelman's tenor sax is heard with piano and drums, piano and bass and guitar and drums, and this spectrum of settings provides ample opportunity to appreciate both the leader's individuality and versatility. His tone, possessed of a steam heat solidity, and phrasing, bears marks of distinction, but there are significant changes in the ambiences and moods that he creates for each specific context. The Clairvoyant, for example, which features Shipp and Dickey, is possibly the set with what is at times the biggest sound by dint of the pianist's thunderous left hand and the generally robust nature of the music, which in no way suffers from the absence of a bass. As has been the case with much of Perelman's substantial output to date, the performance is mercurial with the constant shifts in texture and pulse quite gripping. No more so than on ‘Fear Of Eternity’ where Shipp's rhythms veer from an extreme devolved stride to crashes of block chords that are almost like a baritone sax on the keyboard. Within this rhythmic agitation there is nonetheless a lyricism that is largely achieved by the considerable sensuality of Perelman's approach, which, despite his association with the avant-garde's iconic figures such as Ayler et al, often cleaves to Yusef Lateef, one of the great tenor titans in jazz, whose skill on the instrument has been perhaps overshadowed by his work on other reeds. Perelman's tone should not deflect attention from his composing which is sufficiently supple to move from abstraction to dancing playfulness, as epitomised in the title track of The Gift, where the central high-pitched circus-cum-Music Hall motif is joyously cheeky. Living Jelly, featuring drummer Gerald Cleaver and guitarist Joe Morris makes for a fascinating counterpoint to the two previous discs, primarily because Morris has a busy, often polytonal approach in his playing that can set up two lines of distinctly different character that turn the trio into a virtual quartet. The featherweight brush and scrape of some of Morris' phrases contrasts brilliantly with the heft of Perelman's tone and the result is a delicate hush swirling inside a burly growl. Three strong statements from an artist of real stature.