Paying homage to Ornette Coleman isn’t something new for The Bad Plus, of which this band contains three - yes three not two – members since tenor saxophonist Chris Speed joined Reid Anderson and Dave King for The Bad Plus Mk 3 in August. The original version, that included pianist Ethan Iverson, had already collaborated with the likes of Tim Berne, Sam Newsome and Ron Miles on a touring project celebrating Ornette’s Science Fiction album in particular. This new configuration Broken Shadows (named after an album of Ornette’s from 1971) was formed in 2017. It continues and extends the focus on Ornette’s small ensemble recordings mostly of the late sixties-early seventies covering the period from New York is Now to Science Fiction. Most of the tracks were previously released in 2019 on a 6-LP box set. Firstly it’s refreshing to come across a band playing other Ornette compositions besides the frequently reinterpreted holy ‘classics’ and this striking selection also highlights the consistency of his writing. They are complemented well by tunes written by band members Charlie Haden, Dewey Redman and a pair (‘Dogon A.D’ and ‘Body’) by Ornette disciple Julian Hemphill. This was a period when Redman was in the band (as well as Don Cherr) and the parallel with Speed and Berne is reasonable as to how their distinctive soundworlds unite in a shared commitment to each tune and its otherworldly blues. Berne and Speed have been impressively empathetic sparring partners since the early 1990s and they are once again explosively co-ordinated here.

Speed’s human voice-like tone and zigzagging lines on tenor sax contrasts with Berne’s more angular phrase shapes and dense, visceral alto and the moments of interaction are playfully inventive and intuitively give-and-take. Reid Anderson – his engaging depth of tone somewhat indebted to Charlie Haden – and the inimitable King are one of the most exciting rhythm sections around. Their hyper-intensity teeters on the brink of chaos but they as well have an ultra-hip earthy groove or two in their locker, for example on Hemphill’s ‘Body’. There’s never a dull moment.