How does polo horse semen relate to jazz? In the case of this music, largely constructed from a horse skeleton's constituent parts, and cameos from the likes of Shabaka Hutchings, Evan Parker and Seb Rochford apart, about as much as you’d expect. Having begun as a dance music producer in the 1990s, Matthew Herbert has made a later career from provocative and imaginative leaps about music's nature, composing previous albums from human hair, skin and organs, the food chain and a farmed pig's life-cycle. He's meanwhile formed a close relationship with jazz through the Matthew Herbert Big Band, and connects to its most utopian ideals with his active assault on musical barriers.

‘The Horse's Pelvis Is A Lyre’ indicates the MO, as Herbert picks a horse skeleton sonically clean; ribs and horse-hair make another string instrument, with neck-bones for woodwind. The taped ambience around a Spanish cave's ancient horse paintings and the corner of Epsom racecourse where suffragette Emily Davison fatally fell, are all grist to Herbert's mill, grinding his subject down to glue, at once monomaniacal and knowingly absurd (the semen, by the way, was mixed with cement to make a shaker).

The resulting music is primeval and ritualistic. Is that harsh scraping and breathy roar Evan Parker, or a broken-down nag? Theon Cross’ tunefully percussive tuba contributes more clearly to ‘The Horse Has a Voice’, but is that Hutchings on ‘The Horse's Bones And Flutes’? The London Contemporary Orchestra, meanwhile, provides brooding symphonic sweep alongside electronic melodies and cries, and galloping rhythmic stampedes.

It's an austere, forbidding album, bringing you sonically up close to sinew and bone, and mimicking animals’ industrial processing and employment. Its wild conceptual leaps are more fun to contemplate than the stark results.