Gifts From The Trees, Mammal Hands’ fifth album saw them working in a Welsh residential studio, watching the seasons pass in spring and winter spells, and favouring live sounds over studio ambience. It's otherwise faithful to their melodic and spiritual strengths, and their place as a crucial Gondwana act. When ‘Riser’ goes widescreen and anthemic, it recalls their ex-labelmates GoGo Penguin's minimalist-rave breakthroughs.

Gifts from the Trees more often shows the East Anglians’ collective individuality as players. Jordan Smart's sultry, sundazed sax phrasing on ‘The Spinner’ thins to a folkish point, as brother Nick's piano skitters with minimalist momentum and drummer Jesse Barratt thoughtfully underplays, adorning more than driving. The sax is sinuously pretty before its bird-like cry in ‘Nightingale’, and Smart (N)'s tone is a supple, questing wonder throughout. As every jazz musician wishes, he has his own voice.

The album's shape meanwhile shifts. ‘Labyrinth’ begins as modernist thriller music before hitting a bustling urban stride, until Smart's hurtling piano almost shakes apart, hitting a hoof-pawing, thunderous climax with the clamorous Barratt. As with ‘Kernel’, whose easy undulations end with the sax's raucous barroom swing, Mammal Hands aren't shy of musical violence. More often, though, they seek tune and texture. The Essex folk clubs which form part of their roots remain in a feeling of fraternal warmth, a glowing hearth to fuel their jazz restlessness.