by Thom JurekPart of Hat's limited-edition series (1,500 copies, issued in 1997), this trio date featured a longstanding duo of saxophonist Urs Leimgruber and drummer Fritz Hauser extending an invitation to über bassist Jöelle Leandre to join in the fun. That party took place in a Koln loft in 1996. It's amazing that, despite the fact that a piano is missing from the mix, they sound like the original Ganelin Trio in spirit and humor. If there was a more natural bassist to make this a trio, it is hard to imagine. Leandre had a huge responsibility here, entering into an already established musical language established by the other two. Having played together for such a long time, they almost perceptually knew each other's cues, linguistic tendencies, dynamics, and rhythmic instincts. Leandre rewrote the book, however, by inserting herself so firmly into the middle of this powerhouse improvising pair. And it's not just her bass playing -- her voice is a rhythmic instrument as well as a singing bowl or a drone. The five pieces here are all about process; there are long silences in the beginning and the tension of soft speech, whispering in the dark, looking for a signpost in how to communicate. Next there is the back and forth call and response to hear, as well as speak, to voices in the wilderness; finally, there is signing in sound, the construction and deconstruction of barriers, tensions, languages, influences, musical architecture, polyrhythm, assonance, dissonance, and the very notion of improvisation itself. The music sputters, sighs, spits, splatters, and finally sings to the rooftops in a cracked voice full of power and wonder. This is music that takes the breath away; it's full of joy, discovery, and surprise, and at times gets a little scary, but hey, when people are learning to speak, especially to one another, they get frustrated and angry occasionally. But mostly it's strident, proud, and full of an energy that is infectious. A must have.