In the past decade, the Coin Coin series has become a fascinating commentary on far-reaching African-American socio-cultural and political history. This work has seen alto saxophonist, composer, bandleader and spoken word artist Matana Roberts stake her claim as a storyteller with the requisite gravitas and imagination to conjure up many post-plantation ancestral memories, and this time round, the focus is on a woman in her lineage who died from complications following an illegal abortion; it is as topical as it is personal, given the recent Roe vs Wade debacle in the US.

Tellingly, the music and words are charged. As she has shown previously, Roberts is adept at creating song cycles that have a highly theatrical if not cinematic quality, almost like a distillation of Bertolt Brecht and Julie Dash, in addition to an arranging style that hints at major avant-garde heroes, the Art Ensemble Of Chicago, Julius Hemphill and Amina Claudine Myers.

The way Roberts orchestrates horns so that they appear as a distant image coming in and out of focus, sometimes light and airy, sometimes dark and heavy, lends to the work a very ‘outside space’ quality, which is enhanced by deeply bluesy fife and drum rhythms, suggesting the players are a troupe on a dirt track or perhaps a battlefield, marching towards truth rather than death.

The fact that many members are chanting, playing percussion and blowing tin whistles strengthens the sense of united front if not community action, but Roberts is a very commanding presence, and in one of many arresting recitals she evokes the ‘clandestine destinies and uncast graves’ of fallen sisters before crying out in solidarity: "my name is your name, our name is their name, we remember they forget". This forthright call for historical justice - and the all important need for recognition of the unrecognised – only lends more weight to music that is striking in its evocation of visual image amid a daringly-crafted sound world.