Seen recently in London with American vocalist Somi, Léonide is the young piano prodigy from Mauritius, a territory that punches far above its weight in the jazz world. This island has already produced the likes of the late Berklee tutor Ernest Wiehe and contemporary bass wizard Linley Marthe, and with this auspicious debut Léonide is set to enhance the heritage. Able improviser though he is, the pianist really makes his mark as a composer and arranger, giving adequate space to themes rather than using them as perfunctory intros to solos. The skipping, vaulting quality of the local sega rhythm is a prime component of the music but Léonide weaves striking harmonic colour around it by way of the unusual combination of Sylvain Gontard's flugelhorn and Vincent Le Quang's soprano saxophone. The low, weighty brass and the sharp piercing reed make for a rich textural range as well as an intriguing dark-to-bright melancholy-joy that raises the emotional pitch of the work, which essentially paints a vivid picture both of the leader's homeland as well as his life in the Mauritian Diaspora. Guest appearances by the aforementioned Marthe along with the brilliant Senegalese vocalist Woz Kaly enrich the palette of the songs, but Léonide, who seems to have been as touched by the spirit of Weather Report as that of Bill Evans, fully asserts himself as a personality who understands that folk is inextricably linked to what passes as art. A superlative introduction to a musician who has enormous potential.