Argϋelles, like pal Django Bates, has grown older most gracefully, as gnarly and anarchic as Loose Tube days, but tempered by life, burnished by experience. And for the last three years with his Tetra quartet, a burgeoning band of aspirants who have revelled in his company and compositions. Tetra can be seen as a single played through work, with each song sweetly segued into the next by a fitting solo introduction. So Maddren's melodic, precise intro (how articulate this guy is at the lowest volumes, how many drummers make you listen by their quietude?) sets up the fiery edge of ‘Hurley Burley’, or Lasserson's broody bass warms us into the Jarrett-like groove ‘Yadda Yadda’. But each song (and these are songs, somehow the human voice is implicit, so expressive is Argϋelles' writing) also stands alone outside the structure. The writing can be complex, most obviously on ‘Fugue’, but it's never short on soul, whether straight to the heart as on ‘Asturias’ (it's never easy to keep a tune strong, simple and without sentiment, but this band nail it) or surgingly boptastic on the roller coaster ‘Iron Pyrite’. And a special hats off to Downes, who doubles lines with Argϋelles with a fleet ease, takes his own intro to ‘Nitty Gritty’ with a moonlight shimmer and Satie-like quirk and confidently crunches through Tyner-like chords behind Argϋelles' vaulting soprano on ‘Hurley Burley’. It's all really rather splendid.