Undaunted by the logistical/financial problems of bringing across Messrs. Swallow and Nussbaum from the USA, the Impossible Gentlemen have done the, well, impossible. With just an eponymously titled debut album and a few short tours here and in Europe they have created a stir. Audiences, it seems, can’t get enough of them. Yes, an all-star American rhythm section has helped, but out front are two young-ish Brit jazzers who are doing their thing and turning heads. This, their second instalment, benefits from road-time together, the musicians having developed a good degree of mutual empathy, so this is altogether a more bravura outing than their debut album The Impossible Gentlemen. Simcock continues to display signs of artistic growth every time he goes near a recording studio, and greater confidence too – he now seems to be getting closer to the kind of jazz pianist he has always wanted to be, while the ever enigmatic Mike Walker continues to prove he is much, much better than all those reviews that tell you how good he is. This is one of those albums that make you say, ‘Yeah, I’ve gotta see this band in person.’ And I will.