This correspondent hasn't always been the most generous toward Wingfield. But, in collaboration with Husband, the duo has created a masterpiece of improvisational, yet classically inflected, shared music. Wingfield's recordings can be steeped in an overreaching, super saturated sound. But within a duo format there is more space, the exchanges more conversational, the vision more intimate. The bombast has dissolved and you feel the music is coming through Wingfield, rather than being torturously wrought by him. Husband's contribution is crucial. His stylings remain his own, crystalline, unfussy sometimes iron tight in tempo, as you may expect from a master drummer, but more often lyrical: there's even a touch of another Yorkshireman, Delius, in the pastoral passages counter-punched by jagged Boulez-like chordings. Yes, it can edge to over-earnestness (there are 16 shots of the artists on the album notes and nary a smile between), but who cares, this is serious stuff for serious times. The sleeve notes ask “What if Rypdal had recorded with Jarrett?” What does it matter? We have Wingfield and Husband.