Even now in the 21st century, it's hard to imagine a musical instrument more instantly and overwhelmingly evocative of France than the accordion. It's a central component of the music made by Toulouse-based quartet Pulcinella – joined here, on their third album, by a couple of compatriots. The writing on these jauntily complex originals is bright and allusive, displaying a dash of Zappa's penchant for stacking up seemingly incongruous musical building blocks. A sunshiny boulevard stroll is interrupted by driving jazz-rock riffage; jerky, clockwork Canterbury-style prog dissolves into a sighing ballad; a comedy-drunk slur and slide ends in hushed, music box fragility and the whole album closes with a delicately glistening meditation for glockenspiel and the eastern kaval flute. It's a cerebral and erudite collection of tracks but there's energy too, particularly in the moments when accordionist Florian Demonsant accompanies his own playing with some high-wire scat singing reminiscent of Brazilian legend Sivuca.