Zorn's epic cycle of 500 songs, the Masada Book, has been interpreted variously by the likes of Marc Ribot, the Masada Quintet, Medeski, Martin and Wood and now Metheny. A Zorn/Metheny hook up may not be obvious, but the results have fired up Metheny enough to create his most rocking recording in decades. The tone is set by the tough groove of the opening ‘Mastema’, with Sánchez in particularly explosive form. Across the repeated acoustic guitar figure, Metheny loops distorted power chords and feedback drenched riffs that contrast with the melancholia of the following ‘Albim’, the song which most obviously points up the traditional Jewish roots of Zorn's tunes. As with the Orchestrion project, Metheny feels obliged to play all instruments, drums apart.

This encourages the enclosed, singular sound world of the album, suggesting a peek into a very personal part of Metheny's musical imagination. Unfortunately, it also leads to a lack of colours: the bass sounds are limited and the keys are likewise pale compared to that signature guitar sound. But Metheny is brim-full of energy as revealed on the mandolin wind of ‘Sariel’ or on the darkly lyrical ‘Phanuel’. Fans used to Metheny's wide-open western vistas may be surprised by the disturbing dark at the heart of Tap, but credit to Metheny for stretching himself afresh.