If you are very good – like one of the greatest tenor saxophonists that ever lived – such as Coleman Hawkins, you can get away with solo performance, such as his ‘Picasso’ from 1948. But that was only 3 minutes 15 seconds long. It poses the question of how long an extended solo saxophone recital can sustain the interest of a normal listener before they want to jump out of the window. Even extended solo performances by musicians such as Anthony Braxton and Sonny Rollins have you moving uneasily in your seat after 10 or 15 minutes. Today, solo saxophone recitals are as difficult for the performer as the listener, simply because so much has already been said on the instrument during jazz's history (their use in jazz, or pre-jazz, goes back to at least 1910) and without piano, bass and drums accompaniment everything is ruthlessly exposed for all to hear. On Inaction Is Action Irabagon uses the sopranino, the highest register of all the saxophone family whose piercing tone, even after moderate exposure, sets the teeth on edge. Overall, this album falls neatly in Worringer's dichotomy of abstraction and empathy – on the one hand we can talk about his playing intellectually: the technical aspects at work in the eight recitals, about how tonal variety is varied and shaded by means of slap tonguing, multi phonics, honks, quarter tones and squeals best appreciated by Labradors, while on the other hand we can talk in terms of how most listeners appreciate and engage with music, and that is by identifying with it emotionally, without paying much attention to its formal characteristics, but in each case it is impossible not to conclude this is a boring album. Behind the Sky is a different kettle of fish, and here we get a better picture of Irabagon's executive fluency – a former Thelonious Monk Saxophone Competition winner – with his regular quartet that is joined on three tracks by Tom Harrell. What emerges is a saxophonist of stunning technical ability yet without the ability to say anything profound. Of course, technique is celebrated both here and in the United States as an end in itself, and it comes as no surprise to learn some critics have been wooed by the superficial aspects of his style. But speed of execution does not a memorable recording make and does not necessarily translate into anything that might be said to be musically profound – aspects that the late Mike Brecker, the most technically accomplished of all saxophonists in jazz – was well aware of.