The political ramifications of Blanchard's previous releases with his electric project, none more so than Breathless, are thrown into even sharper relief on this live album that makes no compromises on its message. ‘Live’ meaning the opposite of ‘die’, as well as concert performance. For the most part these lengthy pieces convey an intense starkness well in step with the gravity of the questions raised by the Black Lives Matter campaign, not to mention gun crime in the widest possible sense. In keyboardist Almazan and guitarist Altura, Blanchard has two excellent soloists in a rhythm section hinged on the drums-bass axis of Seaton and Ginyard. Miles Davis' Marcus Miller-penned ‘Hannibal’ astutely sets the tone for the gig, and the interconnected building-blocks of blues, funk and rock are grist to Blanchard's compositional mill. The sound is further personalised with nuances of classical music, and a minor key solemnity that is befitting of the subject matter. However, the big question is: How do Blanchard and ensemble sustain interest on disc when they are taken away from the more visceral environment of the stage? It cuts both ways. At times, the music is gripping; at times it treads water. Ironically, there are moments when the band, for all its high intensity, does not push far enough into the aural violence it suggests, and the creative peak Blanchard hits on ‘Can Anyone Hear Me?’, where his horn's timbral distortions are as heart-rending as a motherless child crying out for love, is not heard often enough elsewhere. The absence of a reed is also problematic as, on occasion, the brass, keys and guitar congest a bit too much around the same textural areas. While Blanchard and the E-Collective are an excellent proposition on stage this release doesn't quite do them justice, and could have benefitted from some well-judged editing.