One of several highlights on this well-crafted and enjoyable set is ‘Modern Jazz’. Its meaning is pleasingly open to interpretation. On one hand it can be heard as a knowing tribute to the innovators of the 1940s and 50s whose body of work still resonates today, a fact borne out by decidedly Monkish manouevres made elsewhere by Chet Doxas, Jacob Sacks, Zack Lober and Vinnie Sperazza. On the other hand the Canadian ensemble has a contemporary identity shaped by four strong personalities who have composed material collectively – by passing a piece from one player to another – and created a cohesion that makes a strong case for the absence of a leader-sideman hierarchy. So Landline, which ‘telephones’ a song into being, is not a time-honoured sax-led quartet that is massively solo heavy. The Thelonious ethos of criss-cross cohesion is expressed in overlapping motifs and sprightly rhythms that have a fresh, snappy brevity. It feels very ‘digital age’, with pieces such as ‘Flim Flam’ standing as a network of precise, eye-of-the-needle riffs that still don’t wear their virtuosity too flashily. Furthermore, Landline has the kind of sharp wit of many of its sources of inspiration, as is evidenced by puns and allusions aplenty, some of which invite all savvy listeners to ‘Feel The Bernstein’ [as in Steven?] as well as feel the burn.