The unsettlingly severe cover photograph, with its combination of pollution and forlornness, is perfect to illustrate the stern type of interaction generated by this trio. Axel Dörner has remained one of the few trumpeters around warranting a degree of audibility – and recognisability – during theoretically “reductionist” actions, his proper (if uneven) pitches relieving the hissing pressure to which many of his exhaling fellows have definitively given the keys of their creative catacomb. Listening to those trembling held tones and petulant cries is cause for hope: not everything has been inundated by warm dribbles – there’s still room for substance. But it’s the overall texture that is to be lauded as an example of stringent creativity, a result achieved without recurring to tricks of any kind. Dafeldecker’s virtuosity is inversely proportional to the number of gestures he performs: from the intimidating repetition of a single cavernous pluck to the mix of bounce and friction, whatever he does reflects a prominent individuality. Johansson uses his drum set like a master painter, conjuring up ghosts of asymmetrical rhythms – the paucity of events reveals awareness of inherent dynamic design rather than lack of imagination. A collective success coming out of an egoless summit.