It’s hard to process that Ron Miles is no longer with us. In our present world of disharmony, his generous soul is much needed. Miles, Blade and Frisell are kindred spirits: each great listeners, each wear their virtuosity lightly, each creates more space than they fill. And it’s in those spaces between that the magic distils.

And what magic: ‘Mr Kevin’ is gentle yet iron-clad strong; this is a righteous conversation, at once as respectful as it is scurrilously witty. This is sit down music, not just because the trio for all different reasons play sat down, but because this is music that demands you sit down with it, sit down and listen, and listen hard, because you’ll not want to miss a moment, because it will never be recovered, never repeated.

‘There Ain’t No Sweet Man Worth the Salt of My Tears’ tips its hat to eternity as Miles’ horn dreams, and on ‘Guest of Honour’ Frisell likewise conjures substance from what appears an airy nothingness. And always Blade is there: it’s almost shocking when he goes off on one on ‘Rudy Go Round’.

Ron Miles is much missed; and his horn and spirit still call to us, call to us.