While greatly impressing through his work with cutting edge leaders such as Steve Lehman, Steve Coleman and Roscoe Mitchell, Sorey has steadily proved himself more than a stellar sideman. A skilled pianist as well as drummer he is a composer with an enviably wide stylistic range. While Sorey wades into hauntingly meditative ambient waters, whereby a rumbling low chord, purring open strings or hissing snare becomes text rather than sub-text, above all because of the great space afforded it, Sorey also brings pulsating grooves and yearning melody into play. Nothing shows the variety more than the contrast between the episodic opener ‘Returns’, in which the trio shifts restlessly between solo and collective statements, like voices blending in and out of slow-burn but sharp group conversation, and ‘Template’ where Sorey's fiendishly funky drumming, which eases seamlessly into Junglist double time, takes centre stage against Smythe and Tordini's sombre, sweetly jarring offbeats. Given the meticulous nature of his arranging it makes much sense for Sorey's compositions to be on an epic scale but therein lies an unfortunate flaw. Clocking in at over 30 minutes ‘A Love Song’, the album's closer, could have benefited from incisive editing, primarily because the atmosphere created by the icily minimal piano variations is so vivid it really doesn't need to be greatly elongated. There is overkill. The bass solo that emerges chrysalislike in the latter stage of the piece is excellent yet a sense of stasis precedes and sadly undermines it. Had the arrangement reached this new stage of the narrative somewhat earlier the net result would have been gripping, but devoid of the real-life tension of a concert performance, longueurs start to creep in. As is the case with many of his peers Sorey's substantial talent has not yet been deployed to optimum effect, but when it is the result could well be outstanding.