“Intuit,” the title tune from Australian expat Jonathon Crompton’s debut, opens auspiciously, with Crompton’s alto squeaking the shreds of a melody between squealing harmonics, as Ingrid Laubrock’s tenor hard-tongues a honking counterpoint. Before long, they’re joined by Adam Hopkins’ bass and Kate Gentile’s percussion, both jabbing at the pulse without really taking command. By the time Patrick Breiner’s tenor joins the mix, “Intuit” has established itself as the best kind of collective improvisation—built not around playing, but listening and responding.
Frustratingly, there’s not a lot more of that collective derring-do on the album. “Apathy,” with Breiner on bass clarinet, has some lovely, slow-churning interplay, with Laubrock shining especially bright, but much of the album finds Crompton focusing on a sort of sax-centered choral approach, where the interplay depends more on the intertwining voices than on rhythm-driven improvisation.